Equinox
by LadySnowTheStark
Summary: Two months have passed since newly married Diana Fitzwilliam said goodbye to her husband as he departed for war. Now, left among the fickle London elite without the one person she could count on for support, Diana finds herself faced with dilemma upon dilemma, all the while trying to answer the same question: when will he come home? (Sequel to Exceptions, accompaniment to Echoes)
1. Chapter 1

Sarah tapped her foot against the floor anxiously, keeping her eyes fixed on the bell hanging by the door. Some modern houses had done away with the old-fashioned system, but she was glad the Fitzwilliams had not. The other end of the scarlet rope hung by her mistress' bed, and it would only take her a few minutes to rush up when called. She was due to ring any moment, and Sarah was loathe to be late. Cook passed by and clicked her tongue disapprovingly, nudging her to the side so she could set the steaming porridge down on the table.

"You should eat before running off," she scolded Sarah. "Mrs. Fitzwilliam wouldn't mind if you were having breakfast, now would she?"

"I can eat when she's up and dressed," said Sarah, still staring at the bell. "Is her tray ready?"

"Aye," Cook nodded to the covered plates lying on a silver tray on the counter. The housekeeper wandered in at that moment, and Cook turned to address her. "Tea?"

"Yes, please," Mrs. Edwards smiled and then noticed Sarah in the corner. "Oh, Sarah, be sure to get the newspaper from Mr. Avery when you take Mrs. Fitzwilliam her breakfast, Lord Fitzwilliam's taken to ordering two from the boy just so she doesn't have to wait for his."

"She shouldn't be reading it," muttered Sarah.

"She shouldn't," agreed Mrs. Edwards. "But Lady Fitzwilliam specifically asked she be kept happy, and this keeps her happy."

"She's a new wife who sent her man off to war," said Cook diplomatically, offering a cup to Mrs. Edwards and practically shoving one at Sarah as well. "What did you all expect her to do? Doesn't matter how rich they are, love is love."

"Hush now," said Mrs. Edwards, sipping her tea. "He'll be back before we know it. That boy always did love causing trouble, he just needed this bit of attention."

Cook chuckled, and even Sarah cracked a smile. Giving up her vigil, she sank into a chair and gratefully sipped her tea. Cook smiled knowingly and patted her shoulder. "We've known young Master Richard for a while, dearie. You tell your mistress not to worry, he can never stay away for long."

"My mistress does believe he will be back, but she is anxious," Sarah sighed. "And she doesn't eat or sleep, I fear. All she does is lay in bed or go off into the grounds on her own."

"Oh, she's never on her own," said Mrs. Edwards dismissively. "There's always a gardener around, and Mr. Avery was just saying the other day how Lord Fitzwilliam has instructed a footman accompany her if she goes too far."

Sarah frowned. "I don't think she knows that, Mrs. Edwards."

"She doesn't need to," Mrs. Edwards took another sip of tea, and quirked an eyebrow at Cook's and Sarah's expression. "Well, what is it? Would _you_ like to face Master Richard when he comes back and demands to know why his wife wasn't looked after?"

Cook sighed. "Nay, but _spying –"_

"'Tis not _spying,_ dear, do not be so dramatic –"

"The lady does not know –"

"She would refuse –"

"But she ought to _know –"_

"She's awake!" interjected Sarah, slightly louder than necessary. Both women abruptly stopped arguing and turned to stare at the normally meek girl, who merely blushed and pointed to the bell, which was now slowly ringing. "I-I'll take her breakfast, shall I?"

"Some fresh cream?" offered Cook.

"Remember the newspaper!" called Mrs. Edwards, but Sarah had already snatched up the tray and the cream and practically fled from the kitchen.

She found Mr. Avery in his office, looking over some accounts. Shyly, she tapped her knuckles against the open door, easily balancing the breakfast tray in one hand. Mr. Avery looked up, his eyes tired. "Yes, Sarah, what is it?"

"The newspaper for Mrs. Fitzwilliam, sir."

"Of course," blinking, the butler picked up a folded newspaper from his desk and approached her, placing it neatly on the tray. Sarah murmured her thanks and backed out. Mr. Avery nodded, a little absently, and returned to his desk.

The rest of the house was still sleeping. Sarah darted up the servants' stairs up to the main floor, and quietly began to ascend the main staircase to the household's private chambers. The rest of the lady's maids were still in their rooms, and she knew the valets were out by the stables with the footmen. She did not expect to run into anyone at this hour, knowing her mistress' routine and also knowing how odd it was. Married women breakfasted in their bedrooms, often not before eleven, but Diana Fitzwilliam was awake at six o'clock every day, rain or shine. Whether or not she actually did anything on the day, however, depended on her mood.

Her bedroom door was closed – she had shifted to her husband's chambers after his departure, and Sarah had only waited two days before moving her belongings from the larger room she had been given to the smaller one she preferred, knowing there was no use in arguing. She opened the door and set the tray on the table by the bed, deftly opening the curtains with one hand while trying to steal a glance at the figure on the bed from the corner of her eye.

"Good morning, mum," she greeted, keeping her tone forcefully bright. "It didn't rain last night, as we thought, so the day is dry enough for you to have a stroll. And Cook sent you some fresh cream for your breakfast, and the newspaper came as well," Sarah moved back to the table and began to set the tray on the empty side of the bed, still not looking at her mistress. "Did you sleep well?" she asked finally, turning her eyes up.

It had been an average night for Diana, Sarah could tell immediately. There were dark circles under her eyes, and the pallid complexion she had adopted sometime after arriving back at Matlock was still there. However, there was a small smile on her face as she re-braided her hair, tossing it over her shoulder and holding her hand out for the newspaper.

"I slept fine, thank you," Diana said quietly. Her voice was not hoarse – she had clearly been awake for longer than Sarah had initially suspected. "Is anyone else awake?"

"Not that I know of," replied Sarah. She handed Diana the newspaper and set about pouring tea. "Would you like milk?"

"Hmm? Yes, fine," Diana waved a hand casually, already flicking through the paper to get to the special section that was dedicated to the war effort. Sarah's movements slowed, her eyes betraying her curiosity even as she pretended to not know what her mistress was doing. Ignoring her breakfast tray, Diana flattened the paper out onto the bed, pointing silently to the small column with a list of names. Sarah glanced at it quickly, and then let out a jagged sigh of relief. None of the names were familiar.

"Jam or butter?" asked Sarah finally, as if nothing had happened.

"Both," said Diana. She folded the newspaper back neatly, her eyes lingering only momentarily over the large, bold letters that read MISSING IN ACTION. It was as if she wanted to assure herself, again, that her husband's name was not on it. Sarah did not begrudge her that. "Any letters?" she asked, accepting the tea and allowing Sarah to finally remove the newspaper from her side.

"None yet," Sarah sighed.

Diana nodded, her expression still calm, but she put her teacup down with shaking hands and began to fiddle with the end of her braid. "Do I have anything to do today?"

"Simply more packing for town next week, and Lady Emily and the Lady Fitzwilliam would like your company when they visit the shops this afternoon."

"Must I?" Diana groaned. "I will hardly be any help."

"You ought to buy yourself something too," said Sarah. She picked up the teacup and pressed it back into Diana's hands, cheering inwardly when she drank absently. "You will have to attend many gatherings in town."

"I do not feel like shopping, Sarah."

"Of course, mum."

Diana sighed. "You won't give me the key to his desk until tomorrow, will you?"

Sarah smiled grimly. "You asked me not to, mum."

"I just –"

"You also asked me not to let you convince me otherwise."

"I know," moodily, Diana picked at the piece of toast lying on her plate. "Would tonight at midnight be a good compromise?"

"Perhaps," said Sarah. Seeing that Diana would not be eating anymore, she removed the tray and held up her robe. "I could run you a bath, if you wish."

"Yes, please," Diana sighed and sat up, slipping her arms through the offered garment. "Shopping, a walk, perhaps some drawing, and I should write to my mother asking for her travel arrangements. Am I forgetting something?"

"No, mum," Sarah headed to the dressing-room.

"Is this what the life of a married woman is like, Sarah?" asked Diana. Sarah did not respond, knowing the question was rhetorical. Diana continued, "Surely this can't be _all_ I have to do. I'm going to go mad in this house with nothing but my thoughts for company. I need a distraction."

Sarah did not need to ask what Diana truly wanted to say: that she was lonely. "You will be sufficiently distracted in London, mum," she said, forcing her tone to be cheery.

"The wrong kind of distraction, unfortunately," said Diana moodily.

Sarah bit her lip. She returned to the room with a few dresses and lay them on the bed, gesturing for Diana to pick one. "I am sorry, mum, but I know you want me to give you the key now, and I won't do that. You'll want the letter tomorrow more than you do now."

Diana stuck out her tongue childishly at Sarah, who merely giggled and picked up the tray again, departing the room. She would be back with water for the bath and attempt to chatter and keep her distracted, but she knew as soon as she was alone Diana would simply stop and stay in the same place, leaning against the wall and gazing out the window blankly.

 **{–}**

"Did you hear me, dear?"

"Hmm?" Diana looked up from her cup of tea, catching her mother-in-law's eye and blinking rapidly. "Pardon me, mamma. You were saying something?"

"I was," Lady Alexandra Fitzwilliam handed her the bunch of fabric samples she had been looking at, clearly ignoring the fact that Diana had not been listening to a single word she had said. "Curtains for the front parlour in London, dear. What do you think?"

"They are all lovely," said Diana. She flipped through the samples mechanically, picked the fourth one out and held it up. "This one?"

"Or perhaps this?" gently, Emily plucked the sample from her hands and replaced it with another one which, as Diana finally looked at it, was admittedly a much better choice. "The blue will go well with the painting you did. Pappa is most anxious to hang it up."

"It is hardly good enough to be displayed in such a place."

"Nonsense," Lady Alexandra took the sample from her hands and began to put them away, as a maid immediately came forward to help. "Didn't I tell you Lady Spencer was demanding to know who my mystery artist was, when I put up your old watercolours in my sitting-room? She is has said she will commission my artist at whatever price they say if only I will tell her who it is."

"I don't see how she hasn't realized they're all Diana's," said Emily amusedly. "She's visited Mrs. Harris' home only a few hundred times, and all the paintings were there as well."

"It has more to do with _where_ the paintings are than who did them," said Diana, finally cracking a smile. "The Fitzwilliam House sitting-room has just been done up, Emily, and you know what that means."

Emily's eyes widened in understanding. "She wants to copy it _again?"_

"She has been doing it for the past five years," reminded Diana. "Though by now, you'd think she'd grasp that mamma has caught on."

Emily shook her head smilingly. "Well, no wonder mamma has been so insistent on getting the carpenter in as soon as we reach town. It appears we are in the midst of a competition."

"Pardon me! I'll have you young ladies know that Lady Spencer and I are very good friends," sniffed Lady Alexandra. "I find these accusations quite rude."

Emily stifled a giggle behind her hand as Diana looked up and raised her eyebrows. "Mamma, friendship aside, we know Lady Spencer has been copying your sitting-room's style for five years. The whole of London knows."

"The whole of London also knows that is why you change it every summer," added Emily mischievously.

"And this little rivalry, of course, has nothing to do with the fact that you once gave her your milliner's address and she bought all the crochet pieces you were so fond of," finished Diana.

Emily gave her mother-in-law a questioning look. "I thought that rivalry ended after she told you about those wonderful ceramic pieces at auction and you privately bought them all before they could go on sale?"

Lady Alexandra turned pink, and Diana gasped. "You did _what?"_

"She even had me pick them up from the auction house, so she wouldn't be seen doing it," laughed Emily. "And then we served Lady Spencer tea in the very cups she thought she would be buying at the end of the week!"

Diana burst into laughter, and the sound was so unexpected and yet so welcome that Emily joined in, her own, much quieter giggles creating a pleasing harmony with Diana's musical tones. Lady Alexandra smiled, her embarrassment forgotten as she watched the two girls – because to her, they would always be girls – forget their troubles for a few moments and clutch at each other in delight. She chuckled herself a little at the memory, remembering her friend's look of surprise. She was fond of Amelia Spencer, of course, but the china patterns had been too lovely to risk giving up.

"Alright now," she said finally, when their laughter had died down. "Enough amusement at a poor old woman's expense."

"We are merely admiring your tenacity," said Diana.

"That is a polite way of saying _cunning."_

"And I am nothing if not polite," Diana patted her hair back into place and exchanged another look with Emily, who was still trying to control her laughter. "Now, where were we? China patterns?"

Lady Alexandra rolled her eyes as Emily burst into laughter again.

 **{–}**

"– but Aunty Diana said I could!"

"And mamma says you mustn't, Master Henry, now don't fuss!"

"Is everything alright in here?"

"Aunty Diana!" the child threw himself into his aunt's arms and glared at his governess, who was sighing exasperatedly. "Miss Williams says I can't paint until tomorrow!"

"Paint?" Diana raised a questioning eyebrow and picked up the little boy automatically, the feeling of his small fingers digging into her shoulder oddly comforting as he buried his face into her neck. "What's all this about painting?" she asked loudly, while throwing the governess an apologetic look. "If Master Henry has finished his arithmetic, he can paint all he wants. Isn't that right, Miss Williams?"

"Of course, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, but he _hasn't_ finished his sums yet," stressed Miss Williams, her wispy hair falling out of her usually neat bun. "Lady Emily was very strict when she said we must give time to _all_ his lessons."

"So she was," Diana sighed and nudged Henry's head with her chin, smiling when he peeked up at her. "Miss Williams is right, my darling. And you mustn't use my name to get out of doing your lessons, you know that will displease your pappa."

Henry pouted. "But I don't _like_ arithmetic, Aunty Diana."

"Neither did your pappa, or your Uncle Richard," reminded Diana gently. "But they did their sums when they were your age, and now they do not have to. So you must as well."

"Did _you_ like sums, Aunty Diana?" asked Henry innocently, as she put him back onto the ground.

Diana grimaced. "Oh, yes, _very_ much."

Henry beamed and trotted off to his little desk dutifully, while Miss Williams threw Diana a grateful look and followed him. Diana shook her head smilingly and continued on to her destination, poking her head into the room next to the nursery and coughing to attract the attention of the occupant.

"Busy?" she asked, as Lord Fitzwilliam looked up from his papers.

"For you, my dear, never," smiling, he beckoned her inside. "I was expecting you before luncheon."

"Mamma distracted me with paint samples," said Diana, sinking into the armchair opposite Lord Fitzwilliam's desk. And then she frowned. "Or perhaps they were wallpaper clippings? Oh, dear."

Lord Fitzwilliam smiled. "Did you see the newspaper this morning?"

"I did, thank you," Diana sighed. "And Henry has arrived in London, he will be waiting for us next week. He sent a messenger," she took the short note out of her pocketbook and passed it across the table.

"Thank you," Lord Fitzwilliam nodded. "Are we to expect the Darcys?"

"Elizabeth and Georgiana are already there, I had a letter from them yesterday saying they are in the midst of preparations and anxiously awaiting our arrival," said Diana. "Darcy should arrive the same day as us, I think, though I can take a look at her letter again and see if she mentioned it."

"That is quite alright," Lord Fitzwilliam waved a hand dismissively, scanning Henry's letter. "He says Lady Catherine has left her card. I suppose the first order of business will be to host her."

Diana grimaced. "I had thought of that. But considering her relationship with Elizabeth…"

"She would not dare disrespect her under my roof," said Lord Fitzwilliam. "Would you tell your mamma when we reach London, and not a minute before? She does not enjoy planning for Catherine's visits."

Diana shrugged. "On your own head be it."

Lord Fitzwilliam smiled again. "You are a great help, Diana. I do hope you do not mind catering to an old man's whims like this, but things being as they are…" he trailed off. "Well, usually Richard is around to look after such things when the season comes along."

"You know I like to keep busy," reminded Diana. "Please, by all means, take me on as a scribe if you must."

"Your handwriting is certainly better than mine," Lord Fitzwilliam chuckled. "And has Little Henry's crisis been resolved?"

"He is not fond of his sums," replied Diana. "He has taken quite a liking to painting, though."

"I am sure that is your influence, my dear."

"I suppose," Diana played with a loose thread on her sleeve idly. "He does seem awfully young for a governess, though."

"I believe engaging Miss Williams at this time also had something to do with easing your burden, once Henry and Emily go on holiday," said Lord Fitzwilliam. He had put his papers away some time ago and was looking at her, hands folded on his desk patiently, but Diana was still looking anywhere but at him. He did not seem to find that odd at all.

"Perhaps they should have just gotten a nurse."

"This will be quite educational. One is never too young to learn something new."

Diana smiled a little. "Was it that philosophy that prompted you to send Richard to Cambridge?"

Lord Fitzwilliam chuckled. "I did have to send him to university, but Richard was never an academic. Sharp as a razor, of course, and an avid reader. Fond of music too, but he could never have done well in the law, or medicine. I was almost relieved when he decided to join the army. It seemed something that he could do well."

"And you did not find the timing odd?" Diana raised an eyebrow. "Two months after I was married, he decided to ship off to war?"

"I admit, the thought did cross my mind," admitted Lord Fitzwilliam. "But your mamma was adamant that, had he truly wanted to marry you, there was nothing standing in his way – all he had to do was ask, we all knew you would have said yes. Of course, we did not consider other factors."

"Like my mother."

"She was one, yes," Lord Fitzwilliam chuckled. "How is old Mina? I know you two have your problems, my dear, but she was not always like this. Why, when your father and her first married, they were the talk of the town!"

Diana smiled a little. "I do not know much about that time, I am afraid."

Lord Fitzwilliam smiled wistfully. "We had some very happy years, all of us. Mina was a beauty, a wit, and the best hostess in London, by far. They were never particularly wealthy, of course, but James… well, you know," his voice turned fond. "There was nothing that man couldn't do. It was no wonder Mina pushed him into those kinds of circles: he impressed everyone wherever he went. But all he truly wanted was to live a quiet life at home with his family. I remember the letter he wrote me when you were born. Six pages with description upon description of your perfection, your beauty, your good temper. Had I not been a father myself at the time, I doubt I would have understood."

Diana sniffed. "He was the best father I could have asked for."

"And he would be proud of you today."

"Proud?" Diana snorted. "What have I accomplished?"

"You survived," said Lord Fitzwilliam gently. "You kept your perfection, your beauty, and your good temper, all the things he raved about from the day you took your first breath. He loved you with all his heart, Diana. But he was not well. He had troubles, and it was a struggle for him to function, on most days. And yet there is no doubt in my mind that, seeing you here today smiling and making others smile despite everything, would have made him very proud of you."

Diana brushed her hair out of her eyes, discreetly wiping her cheeks in the process. The unspoken words were there, and they did not need to be said: she had not turned bitter, despite the hands she had been dealt. She still smiled, and laughed, keeping busy and going on with her day despite the hollow, empty feeling inside her heart. The loneliness had not taken over her life. She had not let it.

In other words, she had not turned into her mother.

 **{–}**

Diana was just finishing a rather short letter to her mother when she heard her bedroom door open. Looking up, she was surprised to see Sarah.

"What is it?" she asked, slightly worried at her maid's look of trepidation. "Has something happened?"

Sarah shook her head, hesitated, and then set a single key down onto Diana's desk. "It is almost midnight," she said quietly. "I thought you might like to have his letter now."

Diana smiled softly, taking the key with trembling hands and hurrying towards the other desk, the one stood in the corner that she could not bear to touch. Her hands lingered against the polished wood, remembering the last time she had sat at this desk, writing letters while Richard looked over her shoulder. The memory was painful, but also invigorating. Any memory she had with him gave her that odd, bittersweet feeling. Biting her lip, she knelt down and slipped the key into the only locked drawer of the desk, twisting it slowly until she heard the inner mechanism click. Aware of Sarah's watchful eye, she resisted the urge to snatch up the stack of white envelopes inside it and instead only picked up the one on top of the pile. Almost immediately, Sarah was taking the key from her hands and locking the drawer again, slipping the key into the pocket of her dress and nodding at Diana.

"I'll leave you an extra candle, mum," she said softly.

But Diana was not listening. She had already ripped open the envelope, her eyes raking over the familiar script greedily.

 _My dearest Diana,_

 _It has now been almost two months since my departure, and doubtless you have already given the key to my desk to Sarah, to ensure you are not tempted to read more than one letter a month. Of course, I suspected you might do this: you are far too intelligent to think that you would not want to read them all in one day._

 _I would like to think I have been a regular correspondent by now, but we are both far too realistic to think I have been diligent in writing you letters from France. You already know this is why I chose to do this, but I do hope you have kept this a secret: if my brother ever found out I had written you a letter for each month I am meant to be away and hidden them all in my desk, I'd never hear the end of it._

 _If you are indeed following my instructions in my last letter and only reading one letter a month, then you must all be getting ready to depart for London by next week. The season should be starting soon, and along with it Georgiana's coming out ball. I confess, I am upset at having to miss out on such an occasion. Darcy and I often talked about the day we would be able to scare away any of her potential suitors. We intended to keep the tradition going for a few years, or at least until we thought we had found someone worthy. It was not until Mamma pointed out we would never think anyone worthy of Georgiana that we started to reconsider our actions. Fortunately, Darcy assured me that there would be no marriages taking place in my absence. However, if such a need should arise, my lawyers have instructions on a particular gift I wanted to give Georgiana on such an occasion. I think you will approve, when you see it._

 _Am I flattering myself by thinking you are all now still wretchedly missing me? Surely, as the stay-at-home younger son with a beautiful wife, I can afford the luxury of imagining that your days are incomplete without me. Ah, you are shaking your head and laughing at me: I do not need to see you to know that is what you are doing. Despite how much everyone's misery uplifts my fragile ego, I must insist you stop it at once. It would not do for me to return and see that you are not exactly how I left you. After all, your miniature is all I have of you: people would talk, if I were to return and not recognize my own wife. Therefore, for all our sakes, you must laugh and sing and draw and be as happy as you were when I was still with you._

 _While I trust that my family is doing their utmost to keep you happy, I would insist that you enjoy the season in London outside of our home as well. Please be assured that Col. Hart and Cecelia, Darcy and Elizabeth, and any number of our other friends would be delighted to host you, or accompany you should you wish to go anywhere. While I understand completely that you may choose to hide away the season after the unfortunate incidents that occurred over Christmas, I know you too well, and you are too strong and stubborn to allow society to keep you from enjoying yourself. You have many companions other than Lady Rosalind, my dear, and I would urge you to take advantage of their genuine affection for you._

 _I shall preach no longer, particularly since you have no way of retaliating to my sermons. I will only add that I love you, and my love for you only grows with each passing day. No matter where I am, or what I am doing, I can assure you, you are the foremost thing on my mind. I am counting the days until I can be with you again, my love._

 _Yours faithfully  
RICHARD._


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, wonderful readers! I know, it's been too long - sadly, real life is truly a pain. I hope this long chapter makes up for it. I thought I lost my motivation to write for a while, but now that I've finished this chapter I think I'm back in the game! Apologies if the quality isn't as good as usual, not only am I getting used to writing without Richard, but I'm also struggling to stick to my idea and timelines!**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and you're still willing to leave me some lovely feedback. Until next time, much love xx**

* * *

Packing for London had always resulted in a myriad of emotions for Diana. She had never liked town; she preferred the solitude of the country, the familiar sights and smells, and the general feeling of contentment she got from those surroundings. Her history with that city had always been mixed. The first time she had visited London, they had just buried her father and she had hated every second of the preparations. The next time had been slightly better: it was a few months into her first marriage, Henry and Emily had just gotten married and Richard had still been on the continent, which meant that she had been able to socialise with the Fitzwilliam family without fear of seeing him. And every time after that, as Lady Diana Herbert, she had somehow enjoyed her trips to town. The Herbert estate had been beautiful, and she had been given full leave to do as she pleased, but Diana had always craved the company of a few familiar, kind faces. Lady Carmichael, Lady Fitzwilliam, and even Rosalind Bertram had been preferred over her civil mother-in-law, uninterested father-in-law, and a husband whose only fault was that he was not Richard Fitzwilliam.

But that had been the past. Now, as Mrs. Fitzwilliam, Diana was unsure of how she felt. And, as she sat on her bed in the early hours of the morning drinking her third cup of tea and watching Sarah silently fold dresses to be put into her trunk, she realized how often she had this feeling of having no feelings. It was hard, to be the other half of a person when they were not around. The first person with whom she wanted to share a joke, an amusing story, or even an opinion on something she'd seen or read, was never around. In addition, there was no respite from the outside world when she was in her bedroom; all it did was feel cold and big and empty, no matter how many times she reminded herself that this was Richard's bedroom, with all his things still in it, just as he'd left them. Worst of all, it was the way everyone looked at her, as if she was the most delicate and yet the strongest creature they'd ever seen. No one was asking her how she felt, or if she needed any help. They all seemed content to pretend as though her husband _hadn't_ gone off to war and left her alone.

Well, everyone except Elizabeth Darcy.

Diana's lips twitched as she glanced at the four-page missive her cousin had sent her that morning. Sarah had rushed to bring her the letter, hoping that it would cheer her mistress up. Though it was not a letter from Richard, Diana had to admit she had appreciated the thought that had gone into it, and the distraction it provided.

Amongst day-to-day news, Elizabeth had also revealed some preparations for Georgiana's coming-out, along with an extensive list of things she would require Emily and Diana's help in. None of the Bennet girls had ever had coming-out balls, and though Diana had not had one either, she had been to plenty. The only real expert they had was Emily, but she was departing for her holiday with her husband not soon after they all left for London, which meant that it had been left up to Diana to gather the relevant information. Lady Fitzwilliam was, of course, willing to help in any way she could, but Diana had a sneaking suspicion she was deliberately letting the younger women take over. Whether that was to provide Diana with something to do, or if she was just curious to see how Elizabeth handled such a large-scale event, she was not sure.

"If you won't shop in the village here, we need to get you some things from London," said Sarah suddenly, interrupting Diana's thoughts.

Diana scowled. "I just bought fabric for dresses, did I not?"

"Yes, but your old ones need to be taken in, and you need new things for the summer," Sarah ignored Diana's petulant tone. "Gloves, stockings, a few underthings. You needn't come, I will go myself to get them if you like. But you do need them, mum."

"My dresses need to be taken in?" Diana raised her eyebrows. "Why, Sarah, are you saying I have gotten _fat?"_

Sarah rolled her eyes at the teasing. "The opposite, mum. Why do you think Cook sends you fresh cream every morning, and all those pastries as well? Though how you manage to stay thin as a rake with no exercise is beyond me."

"I exercise!" protested Diana. "I walk every day!"

"And then come home and have more cake and sherbet than even Master Henry would want," shot back Sarah. "You eat too much sugar, it isn't good for you."

"I have a sweet tooth!"

"Yes, I know," Sarah sighed. "Well, come on, out of bed, then. You have things to do today, and I must make sure some things get washed before I can finish your packing."

Diana rolled her eyes, but obeyed nonetheless. Sarah drew her a bath and left fresh clothes out on the bed, reminding Diana once again that she'd be back to check on her soon. Knowing that the threat had more to do with her tendency to daydream and thus lose track of time than anything else, Diana sighed and dunked her head under water a few times, drenching her hair completely. She would ask Sarah to help her wash it when she returned. Just as she was debating whether or not to get a haircut as well, someone knocked on the door to the dressing-room.

"Can I come in?" it was Emily's voice. "Sarah said you wouldn't mind!"

"Clearly," muttered Diana to herself. Loudly, she called out for Emily to come in, and raised her eyebrows at her sister-in-law. "This could not wait?"

Emily smiled apologetically, holding up a small, leather-bound book. "I wouldn't ask, but I've been told you have a head for numbers."

Groaning, Diana leaned her head back against the rim of the tub. "And who told you that?"

"Pappa said you were helping him with some farm accounts. I had no idea you were a little genius," teased Emily.

"My father's religion was sums, I grew up learning arithmetic over the Bible. That doesn't mean I _liked_ it."

"Well, _I_ would appreciate if you could help me work out some of these receipts and bills for our upcoming trip," Emily fanned herself with the small book absently. "I insisted Henry let me know how much he was paying for it all, and of course he gave me his receipt book, knowing full well that the sums would simply go over my head and I'd have to stop asking."

Diana snorted. "That sounds like something Richard would do."

Emily smiled fondly. "Yes, it's times like these I realize how alike those two really are."

Diana changed the subject deftly. "I can look at them this evening, if you like. I have to finish packing my trunks as well."

"You still haven't finished?" Emily gave her a disapproving look. "Is this your way of expressing that you'd rather not go?"

"I do not need to delay packing to express that," sniffed Diana. "I have never liked London, and I like it even less now. In addition, my mother has just written to inform me that she will be arriving soon after we do, so you can imagine how excited I am to reunite with her."

Emily giggled. "Oh, I do miss your mother."

"You are the only one, then."

"You two haven't seen each other in a few months now," reminded Emily. "Perhaps distance has mellowed her."

Diana raised her eyebrows. "She was kind enough to send on a list of things she will need upon her arrival, including another list of Christmas presents I ought to pack up and send to my cousins running the estate, as a thank you for allowing her to stay since they are currently doing what my _husband_ should be doing for me."

Emily winced. "Perhaps not, then."

"Indeed."

"You could always send her to live on _my_ family's estate."

Diana snorted. "What, in Yorkshire? On the moors?"

Emily shrugged innocently. "It is quite easy to lose your way there, if you aren't familiar with the area."

"You read too many novels, dear. Speaking of which," Diana tapped a finger against her chin thoughtfully. "Your brothers will be coming down for the season, will they not?"

"Of course, but you are a married woman, Diana."

"Not for _me,"_ Diana rolled her eyes. "Georgiana and Elizabeth's sisters could do with some gentlemen acquaintances who will not make Darcy or Henry worry endlessly. Do you not remember our first season together?"

"Yes, Richard hardly left your side and Henry and I were courting two weeks after we met," said Emily dryly. "Are we truly the best examples?"

"Well, it all turned out fine in the end," Diana leaned her head back against the edge of the tub and sighed. "Now, I do adore you, my dear, but be so good as to leave me in peace for a while."

"See that you look at those books for me. I'll send Sarah in," Emily nodded. "Oh, and Diana?"

"Yes?"

"The moors really are easy to get lost on."

Diana rolled her eyes as Emily, giggling slyly, darted out of the room.

 **{–}**

"Are you sure you want to go out, Mrs. Fitzwilliam?" asked Sarah hesitantly. "Only, it is so cold, and –"

"I promised I would go and check on Mrs. Robson and her new baby," said Diana. "Come now, it isn't that cold. That new winter coat was meant to be worn, after all" she fitted a comb into her hair and took the offered garment from Sarah's hands, throwing it around her shoulders and allowing her maid to fuss with the buttons. "I shouldn't be gone too long."

"I'll come with you," said Sarah, and the finality in her tone made Diana's lips twitch. However, she did not argue. They made their way downstairs, past the open door of the sitting-room where Lady Fitzwilliam was having tea, and through the front hall where Henry was talking to a footman.

"Off to the Robson cottage?" he asked as Diana walked by. She nodded, and he gestured for the footman to follow her. "Take a horse," he advised. "It's a long walk, and you know it gets dark soon these days."

Diana rolled her eyes, but did not argue. Lately, it took more and more people's approval and instructions before she could go anywhere. Only that morning, when she had mentioned to her father-in-law that she planned to go out, he had called in a steward to remind him exactly where the Robson cottage was so he would know which part of the estate she would be in. Lady Alexandra and Emily had also taken to including her in every outing they planned, even though they knew Diana had no real love of shopping, or taking rides through the nearby town. Sarah had also become her unofficial tag-along, though Diana knew that was more because of her maid's own desire to keep her mistress company than anything else.

A horse was quickly saddled, and Diana bit her tongue and allowed the stable-boy to help her up. It was always best to pick her battles in this household. It was also infinitely easier to succumb to their wishes than it had been to obey when it was her mother giving orders. At least here, at Matlock, she knew they did it because they cared.

And because, in Richard's absence, they did not know how much independence to grant her.

Sarah and the stable-boy rode a pony behind her, and Diana resisted the sudden urge to race across the field that took her towards her destination. She was not an avid rider, but she knew how to handle a horse, and the one she usually rode was a calm, gentle creature that responded to the lightest of touches. It was still light when she reached the Robson cottage, and two little girls were sitting out on the stoop, shelling peas. They put the baskets away as she approached, and the older of the two ran up to her while the younger went into the house, no doubt to inform Mrs. Robson.

"Good evening!" said Diana brightly. She waved away the hovering stable-boy and jumped off her horse, only slightly off-balance. The little girl gave an awkward curtsey, which made Diana smile and hold out her hand. "Is your mamma home, dear?"

"She's waiting inside for you, miss," said the child shyly. She took Diana's gloved hand and led her into the house. The stable-boy held the reins of both horses dutifully, while Sarah balanced a small basket in her arms and followed them inside.

"Oh, Mrs. Fitzwilliam!" Mrs. Robson was an older woman with a kindly, weather-worn face. She smiled, looking both delighted and exhausted as Diana entered the cottage. The door opened into the kitchen, which was just as neat as it had been when she had last visited. The only difference now was the homely wicker bassinet by the fire, where one of the other girls was kneeling, cooing at the new baby boy.

"How are you, Mrs. Robson?" asked Diana. Sarah murmured her own greetings and placed the basket on the kitchen table. She began to unpack it expertly, gesturing for the two girls to come and help her. Mrs. Robson's eyes widened at the bread, hard cheese and swaddles of cloth that Sarah was setting out on her table, but Diana directed her attention back to herself swiftly. "How is Joe? Is his leg any better?"

"Oh, we can't complain," Mrs. Robson gestured for Diana to sit in the chair by the fire and sank back into her own seat gratefully when she did. "It is tiring, that is all. Children are hard work."

"Your girls must be such a help."

"Aye, Penelope tries, but Jane only gets in the way. They are yet too young," she shook her head. "Of course, my Lady Fitzwilliam has been most kind, sending those warm clothes for the babe. I had no time to sew, y'see, what with Joe's fall and that. And the girls outgrow their dresses so fast."

"I understand," said Diana sympathetically. "Lady Alexandra said that, should you need anything, you must send word to the house immediately. The earl says you needn't worry about rent or any labour, not when you've only just recovered from a difficult birth. The cottage is yours, you must be easy on that front."

"And my poor Joe?" Mrs. Robson sighed. "He is a good man, but the fall has ruined his leg, and without work and the good will of this family, we will be destitute."

"You can count on the good will of the Fitzwilliams, Mrs. Robson. And Joe will be able to find some work when he recovers, I am sure of it."

"All he knows is work with his hands," Mrs. Robson still looked morose. "The fresh air is so good for him, what with all he did in mines as a child in Cornwall. But look at me!" she suddenly looked chagrined, and gave Diana a guilty look. "Complaining about my Joe, when he is alive and well in the next room, while our young Master Richard is off at war! Have you had any letters? Has there been any news?"

"I – I did have a letter, yes," Diana forced a smile onto her face. "He is well, mercifully. We must pray he comes back soon."

"I pray for it daily," Mrs. Robson nodded. "Why, we've been seeing him since he were but a child. He was a boy when my Joe and I moved to this cottage, y'know. He's been so good to us, always coming by for a cup of tea, humble though his reception always was. And we were so happy when he married you," she smiled, and Diana suddenly was struck by how young she looked, with laughter lines instead of wrinkles that came from frowning on the corners of her eyes. "He smiled and laughed when he came to tell us he were engaged, before you arrived here. Joe teased him about it, I remember."

Diana faltered, her mind going blank. Richard had talked about her to his tenants? He had smiled and laughed… her thoughts drifted, and she felt her lips twitch as the memory of his laugh rang out in her mind. She knew she had to respond. Mrs. Robson was starting to look concerned at her silence, but oh! It was such a nice memory, and it was so pleasant, to be able to enjoy those thoughts without wanting to burst into tears. Such moments were few and far in between these days, and she did not want to push them from her mind. Fortunately, she was saved from speaking, because Sarah came up and cleared her throat quietly.

"We mustn't lose heart, Mrs. Robson," she said, and the older woman turned to look at her gratefully. "And you have your wonderful children to care for, don't you? Joe is a good man, and a good husband. Your worrying must make him so unhappy."

"Aye, that it does, dearie," Mrs. Robson sighed. "But marriage is hard, and these times are harder. There is little else we can do but worry."

Sarah smiled ruefully. "Perhaps my mistress would like to see the baby, and then we should go? The earl did say we should be back by dark, and we mustn't intrude on you for long."

"Of course, you shouldn't be riding out alone," said Mrs. Robson immediately. She stood and took the baby from his bassinet, placing him in Diana's arms before she had a chance to speak. "We named him Joseph, after my Joe, but we want to try and avoid shortening his name," she said, stroking the baby's head fondly. "See, what an angel he is? Not a peep at night, and not fussy about his Ma or Pa at all, unless one of his sisters tease him."

"An angel, indeed," murmured Diana absently. The child blinked up at her sleepily, and one of his chubby hands found the edges of her lace collar. He tugged on it, his mouth open in an 'o' as he continued to stare transfixed at the unfamiliar face. Diana smiled, but did not resist when Sarah gently removed the child from her arms to return him to his mother. Her empty hands clutched at her bonnet, and she stood up slowly. "I've brought you some warmer blankets, and Sarah was kind enough to cut some dresses out for the girls, for the colder months. They will need some sewing, but we wanted to leave it up to you in case she got the measurements wrong. And, of course, there is something for Joe in there, so he keeps up his strength."

"You are too good to us, Mrs. Fitzwilliam," Mrs. Robson's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Too, too good. God bless you."

Diana smiled, squeezing the older woman's arm and passing out of the house quickly. Penelope, the older of the two girls, waved at her shyly, and Diana waved back as the stable-boy offered her the reins to her horse. She kept smiling as she rode away, though her expression had turned wistful by the time they reached the house again. If Sarah noticed, she did not mention it, and they climbed the stairs up to her room – Richard's old room – in silence.

"Shall I leave you alone?" asked Sarah finally. Diana was in the process of undoing her hair, absently watching herself in the mirror's reflection. She was not really looking, though, Sarah could see that. Her eyes were glassy, and she was twirling the same curl around her fingers again and again.

Diana jumped at her maid's voice and turned back in surprise, as if she had forgotten Sarah was there. Clearing her throat, she began to undo her hair faster and sat up straight. "You worry too much, Sarah. There is no reason for you to leave when I ought to be dressing for dinner soon. And hand me that book, would you?" she gestured to the leather-bound notebook sitting on her bedside table. "Lady Emily asked me to look at those accounts and I completely forgot. No doubt she will hassle me about it at dinner."

Sarah fetched the book obediently, handing it over and returning to Diana's cupboard. "I'll take out a dress, shall I?"

Diana flicked through the book and waved a hand carelessly. "Whatever you like. Only, don't do my hair too tight tonight, would you? I feel a headache coming on."

Sarah sighed quietly. "Of course, mum. I'll send for some lavender oil tomorrow, if you like. It will soothe your head."

"That would be nice."

Sarah nodded and returned to the cupboard, taking out dresses and and holding them against each other critically. Diana turned away from the mirror and held the book up to cover her face, closing her eyes. A few deep breaths later, she finally felt well enough to remove her make-shift shield. When she did, she noticed that Sarah was now standing still, though her back was still turned. Slowly, she returned the dresses to their respective hangers and took out a new one, laying it on the bed gently.

"A cup of tea might be good, mum," she announced, her eyes fixed on the floor. "I – I'll just run down and ask Cook to make you one, shall I? Would you like something else with it?"

Diana shook her head wordlessly, and Sarah left the room. As the door clicked shut behind her, Diana threw the book away from her, and it landed with a dull sound on the carpeted floor, dangerously close to the crackling fire. Diana stared at it for a few seconds, feeling her throat close up. Her head fell into her hands, and she let out another shuddering breath.

When Sarah returned to the room twenty minutes later with a cup of tea and a scone, Diana was sitting at her desk and making notes from Emily's notebook. Both women neglected to mention Diana's red, puffy eyes, or the slightly singed corner of the notebook. Instead, they discussed Little Henry's new governess, the new patterns for Lady Fitzwilliam's sitting-room, and whether or not Rosalind Bertram would have chosen her wedding dates by the time they arrived in London.

Simpler, lighter topics were so much easier to engage with, Diana thought to herself, as Sarah left her at the dining-room door. Even the footmen made an effort to return her smiles as she entered the room. A haze of laughter, easy conversation, and cheery looks engulfed her as she came in, and Lord Fitzwilliam patted her on the head gently as she passed by him to find her seat. Lady Fitzwilliam and Emily were gossiping over their soup already, and Henry was hastily stuffing some correspondence out of sight before his mother saw and objected to his dinner-table activities. On the surface, at least, they made a pretty picture. What was the need, after all, to voice their greatest fear, when none of them got a moment's rest from their thoughts anyway?


	3. Chapter 3

_Matlock, Derbyshire  
25_ _th_ _February, 18 – –._

 _My dearest Richard,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. As you know, your father was keen that I keep our correspondence to a few letters a week, and whilst at the time I was horrified since I had promised to write you every day, now I feel it was prudent. Life here is still and unexciting, and I fear my daily notes would be short and unable to offer you any kind of respite._

 _However, since it is now three days since my last letter to you, I feel I am allowed to indulge in writing a fresh one. We are to depart for London on the morrow, which means by the time you receive this and find time to respond, we will all be at Fitzwilliam House, so I would urge you to direct all future letters there. Henry and Emily are to leave for their trip from there, and I will have Little Henry for a companion for three weeks until they are due to return. Going to Devon will not be possible until much later, I am afraid, for Mother has insisted on spending at least the beginning of the season with me, and Mamma did not have the heart to turn down her request (though I do wish she had). Emily says time away from me will have mellowed her, but I do not need to put into writing my feelings on_ _that_ _matter._

 _The family is well, just as I said in my last letter. We are all adjusting to life without you, and the house is not as full of laughter as it was when I first arrived here. News of the war reaches us in snippets, and I have taken to reading the newspaper every day to gain a clearer understanding of what is going on. The words they print speak of successes, triumphs and bravery, but I must say it offers me no comfort nor any hope. Mamma does not read it, and neither does Emily, and I am loathe to talk to them about it. Your father and Henry are very supportive, of course, and I cannot imagine that they would not listen should I feel the need to express my fears, but even that would not do. We all exist in quiet reflection here, I am afraid. I know, it may not be what you want to hear, but it is the truth. Some fears are best left unspoken, for speaking makes them real. Otherwise, they are just in our head, and we can pretend that is where they will stay._

 _On a happier note, I am pleased to report that Mrs. Robson had her baby, a healthy, boy. Joe is doing much better, and for your sake I am doing what I can to make the family comfortable whilst he recovers from his fall. And to think, if Henry hadn't mentioned that you used to play with Joe when you were a child, I may never have known how close you were to them. Of course, once he told me that it didn't take long for me to get Sarah to thoroughly question Cook and Mrs. Edwards about it, and they were more than happy to help me plan how best to help the family. Oh, and I wish you had seen the baby, Richard! Such an angelic creature, all rosy cheeks and golden curls and big green eyes. Do you remember Little Henry as a child? Young Joseph looks just like that, but without that trademark Fitzwilliam mischief in his eyes. It is a look I know well, and I worry about how we will cope with Henry and Emily's youngest when she gets it. She has just started babbling, and every time her little voice calls from inside the nursery I must stop myself from rushing to see if she has started crawling yet. Your parents and I are all smitten, of course, but I have no doubt she will strengthen her hold on our hearts in her parents' absence._

 _Not for the first time since your departure do I miss your presence most acutely, my darling. Just today I have had letters from both Colonel Hart and his wife, inviting me to any number of engagements and insisting that I come up and spend a weekend at their estate a few weeks into the season. Apparently, the Colonel likes to get away from the crowds and do some riding when his leg allows it, and_ _someone_ _has let slip to him that I am an 'accomplished' horsewoman. Really, Richard? Flattered as I am that you talk so highly of me to your friends, such lies are beneath you. If you should return and find me battered and bruised, know it was your reckless praise of my mediocre riding skills that led to this, for I cannot now refuse the invitation without calling my husband a liar!_

 _I cannot take care of you at this time, my husband, but even from so far away you have found ways to take care of me. In case you were wondering: yes, the gardener has been obeying his orders of delivering a fresh bouquet to my room every time the old flowers die (though I must tell you it seems as though it pains him a little to cut so many so often, so I may have to request that he limit his deliveries to once a week from now on). In addition, Sarah has been abiding by your rules regarding the delivery of letters religiously: I am only to receive one on the twentieth of every month, the anniversary of your departure, and every other day she keeps the key in her pocket and refuses to even let me peek into the desk and count how many are left. I must say, I thought I saw more than nine the last time I snuck a glance. I am hoping you wrote extras in case you were delayed, and not because you expected to be._

 _I want to write you pages upon pages of how much I miss you, how I wish you were here so I could hold you and talk to you and simply be with you, but what good would that do either of us? Though the last thing I want to do is trouble you with my state of mind, I must say I find myself in a strange place in your absence. You would think living without you for as many years as I did, I would not feel so adrift, but oh! I had a taste of what it was to be in a marriage like ours, full of love and laughter and equality and respect, and I miss it dearly. Sometimes, I worry that I was given too much happiness too fast, and the universe feels the need to balance it by only allowing me to feel it for as short a time as I did. I can almost hear your voice in my head now, telling me to calm down, and see your forehead wrinkle in that way it does when you frown: I hope you are not frowning now, when you read this. My intention, my love, was not to upset you, only to attempt to describe how much I miss talking to you, and having you understand my every emotion, thought and action without me having to explain it (even though, until very recently, you were absolutely rubbish at it; but we will not go into that)._

 _I sincerely hope you are taking care of yourself. I wish I could know for certain that you are doing so, or even know that you are receiving and reading my letters, and they offer you some comfort. I know it is hard to keep up with correspondence, and I know some things are more important than this, but I dearly wish there was a way to be sure. Your father says it is not unusual to go so long without hearing from the warfront. Of course, I believe him, but two months is too long, Richard. Please, if you are reading this right now, a hastily-scratched note will do, or even something written in someone else's hand with your signature would be enough. I do not know if what I am asking for is unrealistic, or unwise. I only know that I am in desperate need of comfort and, short of you walking through my door right now, there is not much that will offer it to me. Please, for my sake, let me know that you are alright._

 _I fear I could write pages more, but then what would you have to look forward to? I must put down my pen, if for no other reason than Little Henry's watchful eyes, that are so adept at picking up my tears before they fall. I will not allow myself to weep, neither for you nor in front of him. You will be back in my arms soon, and he shall not worry about his uncle if I can help it. I will only add, may God bless you and keep you, and return you to me soon._

 _I remain, my darling husband, your ever-loving wife,  
DIANA FITZWILLIAM._

* * *

 **Hello, lovely people! I hope you've been enjoying _Echoes_ so far (for anyone who has not read it, it's a one-shot series prequel to _Exceptions_ that I think you'll really like *shameless self-promo*). I haven't forgotten about this sequel, but you all know I find it hard to write dialogue without Richard - Diana is just so much sassier to write when he's around to encourage her (or argue with her). **

**I do plan to intersperse the story with letters like these, not only to break from tensions but also to offer an alternative look into certain events that may feel disjointed, useless, or just plain confusing. Hopefully, you'll see why I'm doing what I'm doing (I swear, I know what I'm doing!). Plus, since Richard is the one person Diana tells everything to (and vice-versa), it just felt weird not to have a conversation between them happen occasionally, even if it is one-sided for now.**

 **Leave me a review and let me know if you're still reading! Also, for social media fans, I have joined Twitter as LADYSNOWFF. I've been using it personally for ages, but now I'm on it _exclusively_ for fanfiction/writing. If any of you are users, give me a follow (and if you tell me you've done it, I'll follow you back!). Maybe I'll post a lot of memes about writers' block, maybe I'll post images of Regency Era paintings - or maybe I'll answer any and every question you have about my stories and you'll therefore know everything before anyone else!? WHO KNOWS! Follow me:  ladysnowff**

 **Ok, all my self-promos are done now. I hope I've replied to your reviews for the last chapter, and I hope you all know how much I appreciate you. Until next time! Much love xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

"The rain's ruined the path by the house and the gardener hasn't been by to trim the hedges," complained Sarah, dumping a pile of clothes onto the bed unceremoniously. "And the butler's run away with the scullery maid!"

Diana paused in the midst of flipping through unopened letters and raised her eyebrows. "Is that last part true? Or is it because you do not like either the butler _or_ the scullery-maid and want them dismissed?"

Sarah made a face, and Diana tried not to laugh as she stomped out of the room again, no doubt to find some new fault with the meticulously-set house. In Diana's own opinion, however, the house had more problems than positives.

Charles Herbert's townhouse in the centre of Mayfair was large, airy, and decorated to the taste of his mother-in-law. Diana had had no say in how her home had been set up – her husband and her mother had planned everything, from buying the property and furniture, to picking out the wallpaper for her own sitting-room. Initially, Diana had not even known the property had been bought, and had only been made aware of it when she had chanced upon her mother perusing some new china that she wanted to purchase for the house. At the time, Diana had not cared much. The house was pretty, it had been larger than the rooms they had lived in previously, and she preferred the country anyway.

 _Now,_ however, it was different. Since Charles had left her the house in his will, Diana had felt an odd discomfort every time she was in it, and she could not explain it away. It was the house her husband had bought for her to enjoy, but he had not thought to let her try and make it a home. After his death, it was the house she had repeatedly entertained her former betrothed in, later getting engaged to him in the same room she was currently sitting in. She did not feel guilty for it – she loved Richard, she always had, and though it was not Charles' fault she could not love him, she had never hidden Richard's existence from him either. He had known, and he had chosen to marry her and stay with her despite it. Of course, she was grateful for that. Which made her feelings about the house all that more complicated.

At first, Diana had tried to pretend nothing was bothering her. She had boarded up Herbert Manor and tried to forget all about it for the past few months whilst with the Fitzwilliams. However, letters from the steward, as well as her own mother, had pulled her back to reality soon enough. The wise thing to do, she had been told repeatedly, would be to rent it out and keep the money aside for herself. It was what her new mother-in-law was advising her to do, and something that her own mother certainly wanted. It was a beautiful house, after all, so why should she not earn something from it, since that was clearly what her husband had wanted? Her father-in-law could find any number of respectable families willing to stay in it, and that way the remaining staff need not be dismissed outright, which was another action Diana was dreading.

With a quiet sigh, Diana sank down into the armchair by her old bed. Sarah had volunteered to come with her and sort through any personal belongings left in the house, as well as to check on the remaining servants. Diana had a feeling her maid had only been so insistent to accompany her because she was unwilling to leave her mistress alone for too long, but she had accepted Sarah's help gladly. They had only arrived at Fitzwilliam House yesterday, and she was still tired from the unexpectedly long journey. Added to that, she had two very excitable young children waiting for her at home. Emily and Lady Alexandra had gone to do some early morning shopping, and Diana was keen to enjoy the peace while she could.

"Mum?" Sarah poked her head into the room. "Shall we go? I can send for the carriage."

"In a minute," Diana sighed and beckoned her in. "What do _you_ think I should do, Sarah?"

Sarah entered the room slowly and sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes fixed on the floor. "About what, mum?" she asked, but her tone told Diana she already knew what the question was about.

Diana groaned. "Should I sell the house?"

Sarah looked up at her curiously. "I thought you wanted to rent it."

"That would be the wise option, or so I have been told."

"So?" Sarah shrugged. "You never do what you're told, mum."

Diana's lips twitched. "Of course I do."

"No, you don't," Sarah rolled her eyes. "You never have, mum, and pretending to be a high and mighty lady for so long didn't change that. If you don't want to rent the house, you do not have to. It is in your name, and even _I_ know that nothing can be done to it without your permission. Only the Major General's opinion could sway yours, but he'd never disagree with you, mum."

"No, he wouldn't," mused Diana. "But I…" she hesitated. "It isn't wrong of me to want to put aside the things Charles gave me, is it? I was never unhappy with him, you know that, he was a lovely man, but –"

"– but you did not love him, mum," interrupted Sarah gently. "You do love the Major General, and you always have. You deserve to be happy, and I don't think keeping this house will make you happy. It has too many memories, and you're right to want to move on from them."

"Richard and I became friends again in this house," argued Diana half-heartedly. "I did get engaged here. I could hold on to it, for those newer memories."

"Is the memory of the Major General the only reason? Then I think you _should_ sell it, mum. You will have many new memories in a house when he returns, and that house shall belong to _both_ of you," said Sarah firmly. She stood up and picked up the unopened letters, stuffing them into the large bag she was carrying that was already full of things that she claimed Diana would need later on. "Come now, we will be late for luncheon and then when Lady Rosalind arrives there will be such a fuss."

Diana smiled and caught Sarah's arm before she bustled away, pulling in the younger girl was a quick hug. "Thank you," she said simply.

Sarah smiled and squeezed her hand. Diana did not need to specify what she was thanking her for; Sarah always knew.

 **{–}**

"Oh, Mrs. Diana Fitzwilliam!" Lady Rosalind Bertram squealed in delight, completely ignoring the other occupants of the room and throwing herself into Diana's arms. "Oh, I have missed you so!"

Diana laughed and hugged her back. "I have missed you as well, Rose," she said affectionately. Behind her, Henry stood up and cleared his throat awkwardly, mumbling out greetings and goodbyes in the same breath as he practically fled from the parlour. Diana waved him out, knowing his temperament was not suited to entertain someone as enthusiastic as Rose.

Emily laughed and picked up Margaret, who had been playing on the floor, following her husband out the door. "You two girls have a nice afternoon," she said. "Diana, shall I have tea sent in? Cook made a lovely cake this morning that would go nicely with it."

"That would be lovely," said Diana, blowing the baby a kiss as she was carried out by her mother. Margaret laughed delightedly, and the sound lingered as Emily closed the door behind herself softly.

Rose squealed again as the door shut, and Diana jumped. "What is it?" she demanded.

"You just look so happy!" Rose clapped her hands together happily, and Diana suddenly felt a burst of affection for the younger woman. "And this sitting-room is marvellous! Oh, those drapes! Did your mother-in-law re-do it for the season?"

Diana rolled her eyes and nudged Rose with her foot good-naturedly. "Come now, did you come to see the house or to see me?"

"Both," said Rose immediately, without a trace of apology in her voice. "I missed you dearly, of course, but I am to be married in a few months and Sir Ralph's home sorely needs a woman's touch. He has all these horrid mounted stag heads in his front parlour that simply _must_ go."

Diana nodded sympathetically, and forced herself to listen as Rose regaled her with tales of exactly which parts of the townhouse she planned to change, and which parts she could 'make do with'. It was not a topic of conversation Diana would normally enjoy, but she welcomed it that day. The morning had left her tired, with decisions to make that she had no desire to rush. Rose's chatter, though inane, was free from malice or painful memories. She was just Rose.

Tea arrived, with cake and fresh fruit, as well as scones. Diana saw Rose raise an eyebrow at the amount of food she piled onto her plate, but she ignored it. Sarah was forever telling her that she needed to gain weight, and in the absence of her husband she could afford to get fat, if she wished.

"Is your mother coming to town soon?" asked Rose, after she had finished telling Diana the details of her Italian lace veil and hand-embroidered wedding-dress.

Diana grimaced. "Sooner than I'd like, actually. We expect her next week, and she will be staying in Fitzwilliam House for a few days before finding rooms that suit her tastes."

"You could always set her up in the house your husband left you," pointed out Rose. Diana tried not to wince at the reminder, but Rose fortunately did not notice her face fall. "She loved it there, and I doubt anything less would suit her tastes now."

"She would do well to remember her station now, as well as mine," said Diana, but the warning in her tone told Rose that Mina Harris was not the only one who needed a reminder. "I will not use my husband's money to pay for her to live an extravagant lifestyle, and certainly not when he is not here to tell me his opinion on the matter."

"Of course," demurred Rose immediately. "And how is the Major General? Any news?"

"Yes, he is well," said Diana shortly.

They lapsed into silence again, and Diana could see Rose struggling to come up with another, safer, topic of conversation. Her abrupt coldness has clearly confused her, and Diana began to regret her outburst. Rose could grate on her nerves sometimes, certainly, but she had few friends left, and it did not take much to please the one she knew she had.

"You still have not told me what you would like for a wedding present," said Diana finally.

Rose sighed. "Those are to be a _surprise,_ Diana."

"Wouldn't you much rather tell me what you would especially like, so you may be sure you can get it?" asked Diana. Rose looked hesitant, and she rolled her eyes. "Come now, we have known each other far too long for this kind of formality. Name anything. Whatever the price, I promise that you shall have it."

Rose's eyes lit up at the promise, and Diana smiled. Internally congratulating herself on appeasing her, they finally turned to lighter subjects, and by the time a footman came to announce her carriage, Rose had divulged all of the latest secrets of the _ton,_ and then some.

"Remember your present," said Diana as they hugged goodbye. "And come for dinner next week, I am sure mother would like to see you again."

"You mean _you_ would like to see me again so you do not have to spend as much time with her," said Rose knowingly. Diana merely raised an eyebrow, and Rose sighed. "I shall come, of course, and then invite her to spend a few days with my aunt when she returns from Oxford. You know how much your mamma liked her."

"You are an angel," Diana returned her hug with more enthusiasm, and Rose laughed. "I don't suppose your aunt would be willing to take her to Oxford as well?"

Rose pretended to be horrified. "I thought you liked my aunt!"

"I like my own sanity more."

"Well, for your sanity's sake…" Rose trailed off, and then laughed at Diana's hopeful expression. "You terrible creature! I shall see you next week."

"Goodbye!" Diana saw her out, and then leaned against the doorframe. Still smiling, she shook her head and returned to the sitting-room, asking a footman to bring her another slice of cake.

 **{–}**

 _Dear Diana,_

 _I was so pleased to receive your note that you have returned to town, and so very sorry I missed your visit to the house! Mary must have new dresses for the season and my horrid husband would not let me take her all week, sour old man that he is. He demanded our attention as he whined and moaned about the changing weather affecting his health, although I have to say if he moved from in front of the hearth and kept his nose out of his books for a few days he'd be right as rain. Just when I managed to tear us away from his side for an afternoon, you decide to come by! Oh, I am so cross with him._

 _I hope Timothy kept you entertained for the duration of your visit. He says he was perfectly amiable, but I am sure he was not. I only write to beg forgiveness for missing you, and hope you will come to dinner on the _th, at the end of this week. Please also bring the viscount and that charming wife of his. We shall be a small party, but I would dearly like to see you again and hear any news you have of our dear boy at the front. Timothy says you are well-versed on the goings-on of the war, and you know I do not begrudge you a thirst for knowledge. I only hope we receive nothing but good tidings for the next few months._

 _I look forward to a favourable answer to my invitation_

 _Yours, etc.  
CECELIA HART_

 **{–}**

 _Dear Cecelia,_

 _You are all generosity and kindness. Of course, I should have given notice before I stopped by, but I was in the area and could not resist. The Colonel was an excellent host, though your absence was felt most acutely. I will gladly join you for dinner, and my sister-in-law will be happy to accept your invitation. The viscount is unfortunately occupied that evening, but sends his best wishes to the Colonel and your family nevertheless._

 _Give Mary my love and reassure the Colonel that I am on his side. The changing weather is ghastly, and I would prefer my hearth and a book over the packed streets of London any day._

 _Yours, etc.  
DIANA FITZWILLIAM_

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 **Hello again, my friends! I know, I know, it's been a while - I have no excuse except grad school and some personal struggles (mental health is no joke guys, check in on your friends often). However, I am doing better now and really wanted to upload a chapter. It makes me feel successful, and I love hearing happy reviews from my wonderful readers. I hope you're enjoying getting reacquainted with characters, and excited for old ones to reappear! Next up, we have some Darcys, some barely tolerable mothers, a dinner party or two and perhaps, dare I say... a letter?**

 **Thank you again for your reviews, I replied to quite a few of you yesterday and said to keep an eye out for this chapter. I hope lots of you are still around and keeping your fingers crossed for Richard's safe return, I know I am!**

 **Until next time. Much love xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**I know, I know! It's been inexcusably long, but real life is finally back on track, my muse is alive and well and I've never felt better! This chapter is short, but it's a build-up to the next one (combined word count was well over 6k but I was impatient to release something so I could reassure all you lovely readers I was indeed doing well again!). Please enjoy - the mysteries await :)**

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The day of Mina Harris's arrival dawned stormy and cold, a change from the relatively pleasant weather they had been enjoying since their arrival in London. Diana tried not to dwell on the pathetic fallacy of it all as she helped Sarah ready her mother's room, even though she could feel the dread pooling in the pit of her stomach as the hour grew later. Lady Fitzwilliam drifted into the room at the last minute to rearrange flowers, muse about new curtains, and to give Diana a warm hug that she had no doubt had been the countess' aim from the start. The earl looked completely at ease, the only indication that he was anxious being the way he constantly checked the time on his pocket-watch, but Diana did not begrudge them their feelings. They had known her mother for longer than she had, and she had no doubt Mina would be unbearable even while she was under the Fitzwilliams' roof.

The clock struck five and Diana hurried downstairs from her room, entering the drawing-room where the rest of the family was sitting just as the front door opened and the footman was heard greeting the new arrival. Henry let out a deep sigh that made Emily hit him with her fan, but Diana smiled reassuringly. As if on cue, a footman opened the door to announce Mrs. Wilhelmina Harris, and Diana forced her smile not to slip.

Lady Fitzwilliam was already by her friend's side before anyone could speak, kissing her cheek and guiding her to sit. Amidst her fussing over Mina's attire, which was rather damp from the rain, the earl and Henry managed to squeeze in quick greetings. Emily took longer, since she was carrying Margaret and Mina's voice and expression softened immeasurably when presented with the baby. Her face still looked relatively amiable when Diana finally stepped into her line of sight.

"Hello, mother," she greeted. Mina continued to smile, no trace of a sneer on her face as she allowed Diana to kiss her on both cheeks and press her hand. She even continued to hold it, looking up at her daughter pleasantly.

"You look wonderful," said Mina. "Being married suits you, my dear. Or perhaps it is the kindness of your new in-laws," she turned to give Lady Fitzwilliam an affectionate look. "Come, sit by me," she added to Diana, sinking onto the sofa. "That dress is lovely," she commented, patting Diana's knee. "Is it new? I never realised how well you looked in velvet."

"I – yes, it is new. Thank you," stammered Diana. Next to her, Emily pinched her arm warningly, and she schooled her expression of confusion into something more appropriate. "How was your journey, mother? I hope the carriage we sent was to your liking."

"It was lovely, dear, but you know you needn't have bothered," Mina shook her head. "Your cousin was perfectly willing to lend me his carriage. But I suppose it was a nice gesture. You even sent that fruit-cake you know I'm so fond of," she squeezed Diana's hand again. "Such a good girl, isn't she, Alexandra?"

"The best," said Lady Fitzwilliam. Her eyes were sparkling with undisguised happiness, clearly at the display of maternal affection that Mina Harris had not bestowed upon her only child in years. Diana tried to mimic her mother-in-law's expression, but it was hard. The last time her mother had shown her any form of affection had been the worst day of her life, and it had been so long ago she had almost forgotten how she was supposed to respond.

A footman brought in tea and Sarah poked her head into the room, catching Diana's eye and bobbing a curtsey in Mina's direction. She looked as though she was ready to flee at a moment's notice, but Mina surprised the whole room by asking her to stay, and enquiring after her family. Sarah's mother, her sisters, and the nieces and nephews Diana often coaxed her to discuss were all asked after; Mina knew every name, every age and every ailment, even going so far as to promise to aid Sarah in finding work at their estate for her oldest nephew, who was a boy of eighteen and still living in Devon. Looking utterly lost and yet strangely delighted, Sarah spluttered out various thanks and backed out of the room, the expression on her face one that would normally have made Diana laugh if she was not so confused herself.

The afternoon continued in much the same vein: Mina enquired after relatives she had never had any interest in before, smiled at and thanked servants with no hint of condescension in her manner, begged to be allowed to hold the baby while Emily had her tea, and offered Diana her undivided attention every time she chanced to speak. Lady Fitzwilliam appeared satisfied with Mina's behaviour, as if it were the norm, and though Henry and Emily appeared confused initially, they too quickly warmed up to this new version of Mina Harris. Diana, though surprised at the change, was still ill at ease: it was not the first time her mother had been polite in public and yet unbearable in private. Very few people had known how ill-tempered both mother and daughter could be when they had first arrived in London almost a decade ago. Many had found Mina utterly charming, and it had been Diana who was impossible: rude, sulky, and beautifully bitter, she had rarely smiled unless in the company of Richard Fitzwilliam, and even then it took every ounce of charm that young man had to coax her to be amiable. People had pitied her poor mother, the widow whose husband had killed himself, whose family name was sullied by his actions, and whose daughter would never find a good match unless she used her looks and her charm to her advantage, which she had never done.

Until Charles had come along, of course.

"Are we sure this is indeed your mother?" mumbled Henry, jolting Diana out of her thoughts. She glared at him and glanced around the room pointedly to ensure no one was listening. Little Henry had wandered into the parlour only a few minutes ago and was sitting by Diana's feet, contentedly scribbling away in a new sketchbook. Mina and the countess had departed to inspect the new parlour, and the earl was reclining by the fire reading a letter, the picture of ease.

"Perhaps someone has bribed her," muttered Diana.

"Perhaps she has found God," mused Henry.

"You are both terrible!" scolded Emily in a low voice. ""She is clearly trying, Diana, you might make more of an effort instead of staring dumbly every time she looks at you."

"What do I say?" demanded Diana. "Are you forgetting the things she has done? The things she said in her letters, not two months ago?"

"Perhaps she is trying to change," said Emily. "You are her only daughter, and you have never been parted for this long. She may have missed you."

"I'm sure she will recover from it soon enough," sniffed Diana. Henry snorted, just as Mina and Lady Fitzwilliam re-entered the room.

"Is there a joke we should hear?" asked Lady Fitzwilliam, eyebrows raised.

Henry cleared his throat. "Not at all. Tell me, Mrs. Harris, how long are we to expect the pleasure of your company?"

"Long enough that I may help in seeing to your young ones while you are on holiday, I should think," said Mina amicably. "Everyone shall have their hands full with young Miss Darcy's coming-out and other social events. It is one of the reasons I insisted on being here now, you see," she smiled down at Little Henry, who seemed to realise he was being discussed and looked up. To Diana's surprise, he smiled back brightly and returned to his drawing, not picking up on the tension in his new aunt's form at all. "I think it will do us all well to be around family for the next few months. I know how hard it was to be away from my child for so long," said Mina. Lady Alexandra murmured her agreement as Mina squeezed Diana's shoulder softly, gliding past her daughter to pour herself another cup of tea.

For the rest of the afternoon Diana was silent, watching her mother glide about the room, make conversation with the adults and even play with Margaret and Little Henry until supper was announced. With no trace of annoyance or pretence on her face, Diana finally saw a glimpse at the woman her in-laws had first befriended after her marriage. A woman who, though proud, was respectful of those below her in status, anxious to help anyone who sought her out, and devoted to her friends and family. The same woman, Diana realised, that her father had married.

 **{–}**

 _Dear Elizabeth,_

 _I hope this letter finds you enjoying a cup of tea in front of your lovely hearth at Darcy House. I know you are to arrive today, and whilst mamma has been most adamant that we visit you immediately, I have managed to hold her off for the time being. I must insist you take a full day to rest and recuperate – the journey from Pemberley is not as long as it may be from Devon, but leaving the country and all the comforts that the secure bubble of home offers can be tiring, particularly when one is 'at home' to visitors._

 _I was delighted to hear that your sisters Miss Catherine and Mrs. Bingley will be joining you at Darcy House next week, and so very sorrowful to learn that Miss Bingley has chosen to spend the first half of the season with her elder sister. I look forward to seeing her at Georgiana's coming out, however. I have every confidence it will be a beautiful gathering, and have no doubt Miss Bingley is looking forward to it as well._

 _I realise I could not answer your last letter in time to catch you at Pemberley, and so I will address your queries in this note. Yes, we have arrived safely in London, and my mother arrived yesterday evening. We had a quiet dinner at home and will doubtless have the same today, but I am engaged tomorrow for dinner at the Harts', friends of Richard's (I daresay Darcy is acquainted with the Colonel?). Emily is joining me, and I would invite you and Georgiana as well, but I do not know what your commitments are. We will visit you in the morning, however, as there is much to discuss regarding the coming-out ball, Almack's, a suitable wardrobe for you both, and of course your first dinner to be hosted at Darcy House. I suppose the benefit of having my mother in town for the next few months is that you will have all the help you require, and then some; I apologise in advance for anything she says or does that may offend you. I have hope that time away from me has mellowed her, but one can never be too hopeful._

 _Regarding your fears about the ball and your dislike for shopping: I would advise you not to say that too loudly in front of my mother-in-law, as she seems to take it as a personal challenge, and one can never win against that great lady. I can vividly recall a sixteen year old girl recently arrived from Devon who said the same thing to her once, and she took her on so many outings and treated her with so much love that she ended up married to her son! Well – now you know the kind of affection she inspires. Rest assured, everyone in this house will do as much or as little as you would like, and Miss Darcy must be sure to speak up when she would like to be heard, as the women of this family tend to be rather prone to getting their way (thankfully, we all have excellent taste)._

 _Look at me, chattering on – this was meant to be a quick note, and here it has turned into a letter longer than the last one I sent you! I will see you tomorrow promptly at eleven and I hope you can forgive the ramblings of a (only slightly older) woman with too much time on her hands. It is rare I may write such long letters that I can expect a prompt response to._

 _I remain,  
Yours, etc._

 _DIANA FITZWILLIAM_


	6. Chapter 6

**Apologies for the double posting - I have actually had this chapter sitting around waiting to be proof-reading and posted, and forgot about it for two weeks! Sorry if I haven't replied to reviews with my usual enthusiasm, but let me know what you think and what your predictions are for the next few chapters (I love reading those!) and I will be back soon. Much love xx**

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"I did not expect you to look forward to this so," commented Emily. She winced as the maid tugged at her hair too hard and glared at her through the mirror. "Must you do that, Bates?"

"Pardon me, my lady," murmured Bates.

Diana bit back her retort and continued to look the window quietly. She had dressed and come to Emily's room to finish getting ready so the two could chat, but Emily had spent a significant portion of the time telling off Bates, her personal maid, for all the mistakes she seemed to be making. Bates was similar to Sarah in her timidity, but unlike Diana, Emily had not grown up with her, and had little patience for any kind of misstep. Diana resisted the urge to offer the woman some comfort and instead exchanged a look with Sarah, who was busy fitting a string of pearls around her bun. Her hands had paused for a moment: she had pulled Diana's hair more than once during the course of the evening, but there had been no venom in her mistress' voice when she'd reprimanded her for it.

"I like the Harts," said Diana, after a few seconds of silence. "I only ever socialised in the same circles after I first married, and Richard's friends are very different to our usual acquaintances."

"Yes, I expect so," said Emily. Bates finished pinning her hair and moved away from the mirror, beginning to tidy around the large room. Emily rummaged through her jewellery box as she continued to speak. "I suppose I should be flattered that I was invited. I have heard Cecelia Hart keeps a very interesting table."

"How so?" asked Diana.

"Writers, artists, even the odd actor or musician," Emily shrugged. "The Colonel is a very learned man, and Cecelia doesn't come from money but her father was a poet and all her brothers are scholars. She likes to surround herself with similar people. I am surprised you did not know that about her."

"I only ever met her in private, and Richard never even hinted at what I was to expect in a larger gathering," Diana shook her head bemusedly. "Who would have thought? She is very kind, but the woman talked my ear off when I first met her and yet seemed to say nothing of consequence at the time."

"Well, it won't be like one of Rose Bertram's soirées, I can tell you that much," mused Emily.

Diana snorted. "Oh, I dearly hope it won't be."

Emily laughed. Sarah finally finished Diana's hair and backed away, smiling at Diana's rather enthusiastic praise of both the maids' work. There was a flurry of movement as wraps were found, stays were rechecked and cheeks were pinched to ensure there was some colour on both the women's faces before they ventured downstairs. The front parlour was empty, but Lady Alexandra and Mina were both sitting in the earl's study, and Emily poked her head in to say goodbye as they left.

"Oh, may we see how you look?" Diana heard Mina call out, and reluctantly turned back. Lady Alexandra smiled and complimented them both generously, and Diana braced herself as she turned to face her mother. She was wearing blue because it brought out her eyes, and a large diamond bracelet and a silver chain was the only jewellery she had allowed Sarah to give her. The outfit was too modest, both for Mina's tastes and for a newly-married woman, but Diana was loathe to show up to the house of one of Richard's friends looking like a grand lady when there was no need to impress her superiority upon anyone there.

"What a lovely ensemble," said Mina, smiling at Diana with no hint of artifice. "I hope you both have a wonderful time. What a shame Richard isn't here to see how fine you look, Diana."

Diana forced a smile onto her face and followed Emily out the door, unresponsive when her sister-in-law patted her shoulder comfortingly. The carriage ride was silent as Diana mulled over her mother's seemingly reformed personality. Mina was staying at Fitzwilliam House as they waited for her rooms to be set up, and her pleasant demeanour had not cracked even once. Privately, Diana was afraid that Lady Alexandra would not _let_ her mother leave: she had been nothing but sweet smiles and kind words since she had arrived, to the extent that even Henry had stopped teasing and seemed to accept her new behaviour without question. However, Diana was filled with guilt every time she shied away from treating her mother with even a semblance of the same affection the older woman seemed to offer her and, not for the first time, she longed for Richard's comforting words in the midst of her inner turmoil.

"We are here," said Emily, interrupting Diana's thoughts. "Oh, the house is beautiful!"

Diana nodded absently as the carriage door opened and they were helped down. The front door opened and a footman bowed, helping them with their wraps and giving Diana only the merest ghost of a smile, which led her to believe it was the same footman who had greeted them the last time she had come to the house with Richard.

"Mrs. Hart is in the parlour, and the Colonel will be down shortly," said the footman, when Diana enquired after Cecelia. "If you would follow me?"

Diana linked arms with Emily, who was still looking around the tastefully decorated foyer curiously, and they entered the parlour just as a footman announced them. Diana had just enough time to notice the number of people – at least thirty, none of whom were familiar – before she was suddenly tackled by the strength of her hostess' embrace.

"Oh, I am delighted to see you!" exclaimed Cecelia Hart, and not for the first time Diana admired the older woman's carefree attitude. Still smiling, Cecelia kissed both of Diana's cheeks and pulled back, turning her attention to Emily. Though her greeting was just as warm, she did not embrace her as she had Diana, and Emily seemed slightly relieved she was not to receive the same welcome. As Mary Hart came forward and offered Diana a much more gentle hug, she noticed that, of all the occupants of the room, not one of them seemed surprised by Cecelia's enthusiastic greeting, or the presence of two unknown women. Everyone appeared to be in their own worlds, with small groups scattered around the large room and a few people milling about. The chatter was at a low, pleasant hum, and Diana felt her shoulders relax at the obvious lack of scrutiny.

"Mrs. Fitzwilliam, good evening," a vaguely familiar voice spoke, and Diana turned to see who had addressed her. The nervous expression on the man's face was unmistakable. Dr. Stanley Lennox still appeared to dread being in her presence, but he had been polite enough to come forward her greet her himself, so Diana made up her mind to be as amicable as she could.

"Hello, Dr. Lennox," she said pleasantly. He pressed her hand and folded his arms behind his back, his head slightly bent so as to hear her better. "I hope you have been well?"

"Very well, thank you. And yourself?"

"About the same, I'd say. Have you met my sister-in-law?" Diana drew Emily away from Cecelia and Mary and indicated Dr. Lennox to her. "Lady Emily Fitzwilliam, Dr. Stanley Lennox."

"Oh, of course," Emily smiled charmingly and offered her hand. "Richard has told us so much about you, Dr. Lennox, and your brother as well. It is lovely to put a face to the name."

"The pleasure is all mine, my lady," Dr. Lennox bowed over her hand and smiled, his expression much more relaxed now. Emily immediately started a conversation with him, and her sweet disposition put him at ease instantly, as it often did with men who were even more reserved than the good doctor. Diana smiled to herself and accepted a glass of wine from a waiter, turning her attention back to her hostess.

"Come, there are so many people here you must meet," said Cecelia. She linked her arm through Diana's, turning to give Mary instructions to stay with Emily and the doctor, and proceeded to lead her away. Diana braced herself for awkward hand-shakes, forced bows and stilted conversation, but the next twenty minutes were anything but dull.

Diana knew, from what Emily had told her, that Cecelia Hart liked to surround herself with artists, musicians and writers, all well-known in the London circle of their peers but not well-known enough that Diana would have heard of any of them. Of course, Diana had been to gatherings where those of an artistic temperament were present, but she had never enjoyed their company: those accepted by the _ton_ thought a great deal of themselves, and very little of others. They were all also men, who seemed to assume that quoting Lord Byron's poetry would be enough to have women swooning at their feet. And often, it _was_ enough.

Which was why Diana was surprised that the first person Cecelia introduced her to was an elegant woman with perfectly coiffed silver hair, sipping from her glass and chatting with, or rather _at,_ a group of younger men who seemed to hang on her every word.

"Mrs. Crawford," Cecelia interjected without permission, and the older woman immediately turned to her. "This is the young lady I was telling you about. Richard Fitzwilliam's wife, Mrs. Diana Fitzwilliam."

"Ah, yes, of course," Mrs. Crawford smiled, showing a set of brilliantly white and perfect teeth. There was just the faintest hint of a French accent in her voice, which made her seem even more sophisticated to Diana. " _Elle est tellement belle,_ Cecelia. _Enchanté_ , _madame,_ " she held Diana's hand in both of her own warmly. "Your husband, he is so charming. We dearly miss him at Cecelia's gatherings."

"Thank you," Diana smiled, immediately put at ease by the woman's warm manner.

"Mrs. Crawford is a musician, and the only reason Mary and I took up the harp while Timothy was away last time," explained Cecelia. "Of course, she has many other skills and interests. What have you been writing these days, Mrs. Crawford?"

"Ah, _chérie,_ if I were to tell you now, who would buy the book when it is published?" Mrs. Crawford wagged her finger at Cecelia playfully. "Your friend, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, she is my best reader. But you must not believe a word she says about my writing until you read it for yourself."

"You are a writer?" Diana could not keep the astonishment out of her voice, and was immediately embarrassed. "I am sorry, I did not mean to sound so surprised."

 _"_ _Oui, chérie,_ there are more of us than you realise," Mrs. Crawford did not seem offended by her tone in the slightest. "Why, there are at least three of us in this very room! Well, four, but Mrs. Richmond does not like to admit it," she rolled her eyes. "Have you introduced her to the Richmonds yet, Cecelia? Their son does the most exquisite watercolours, and he is only fourteen. Young talent is always so refreshing to see."

"Diana is a wonderful artist as well, Mrs. Crawford," said Cecelia. Diana tried to protest, but Cecelia hushed her. "You must see some of her work, it is really remarkable."

Mrs. Crawford's curiosity was clearly piqued. "Really, _madame?_ And where did you study?"

"I only had a tutor, Mrs. Crawford, for a few years when I was younger. I do not claim to be an artist at all, really."

"I know many women who do not claim to be artists, and yet they have a great deal more God-gifted talent than some men I have met," said Mrs. Crawford, waving away Diana's modest protests. "I have no doubt, _chérie,_ that you are one of these women. This English society of yours frowns upon self-praise too much."

"Mrs. Crawford is from France, Diana, but she married an Englishman," said Cecelia, her voice dripping with amusement. "She has been here for over thirty years now, but still insists that there is no place in the world for artists like Paris."

"I have no doubt about that," smiled Diana.

"Have you been to Paris, _chérie?"_

"I'm afraid not, Mrs. Crawford, though I have always wanted to visit."

"Ah, that is unfortunate," Mrs. Crawford shook her head sadly. "You must make that husband of yours take you, _mon chér._ You would thrive there. A shame, this war," she sighed deeply. "Why must men make everything ugly?"

"Come, Mrs. Crawford, we must not dampen the girl's spirits," said Cecelia hastily. Mrs. Crawford seemed to realise that Diana had gone quiet ever since she had mentioned the war and looks apologetic, so Diana attempted to smile reassuringly. "Perhaps I will introduce you to the Richmonds now, dear. Their son really is quite gifted, and they are the loveliest couple, despite Mrs. Richmond's unwillingness to own up to her books. Mrs. Crawford, may we take your leave?"

"Of course, of course," she waved them away. "It was lovely to meet you, Madame Fitzwilliam, _mon chér._ You must invite me to your home so I may see some of these paintings of yours."

"It would be a pleasure, Mrs. Crawford," Diana smiled. "And you must bring me one of your books, of course."

Mrs. Crawford smiled brilliantly again. _"Bien sûr, mon chér."_

"Come, let's see what your sister-in-law is up to," Cecelia led her away, giving her a small, apologetic smile. "I'm afraid the war will come up quite a bit this evening, my dear. Richard knows most of these people, and he is well-liked. We are all concerned."

"He would not be Richard if he was not well-liked," Diana shook her head smilingly. "It's quite alright, Cecelia. Mrs. Crawford was a very interesting woman. I am glad you introduced me."

"Oh, I knew you'd like her!" Cecelia beamed. "And she was pleased with you as well, she does not invite herself to people's homes nor take such interest in their pursuits as she did with you! So many people fall over themselves to be in her favour, I'm sure she found you refreshing. Well, you are always so composed, so put-together! Such grace! There are so many lovely people here you would get on with, I knew if I just got you here you'd win them all over!"

Diana smiled and listened to her hostess' – rather flattering – chatter as they made their way to the corner of the room where Emily was sitting with both Lennox brothers, Mary Hart, and –

"Ah, there she is!" Colonel Timothy Hart got up from the armchair he had been sitting in and bowed over Diana's hand, pressing it warmly. "How are you, my dearest Mrs. Fitzwilliam?"

"I'm very well, Colonel, thank you," Diana smiled at him and glanced at Emily, who seemed to be deep in conversation with Mary Hart. "I see you have met my sister-in-law."

"A fine lady. We were just wondering where my wife had stolen you off to."

"I was chatting with Mrs. Crawford," said Diana, smiling in thanks at one of the Lennox brothers who had brought her over a chair. "She is such an interesting woman. Do you know her well?"

"Aye, I should. She's married to my cousin," the Colonel snorted. "Did she tell you she thinks the English are too stubborn?"

"She did say we as a society lacked the artistic nature of Parisians."

"Ah, her love affair with France is still going strong then," he rolled his eyes. "She is an interesting woman, of course, full of good conversation, style, beauty, all that. But not a day goes by that she doesn't threaten to leave that husband of hers for France, and not a day goes by that he doesn't dare her to do it. Thirty years together, and they're both as happily married as they could be. But they have the same fight almost every day, with the same outcome," his eyes crinkled in confusion. "What do you call that, then?"

Diana laughed. "I call it a match made in heaven, of course!"

"Maybe," the Colonel rubbed his face tiredly. "Your sister was just telling us she is off to the Lakes next month. Of course, I've insisted she and her husband come and stay with us, break their journey in comfort. Could I convince you to join them?"

"You are very thoughtful, as always, but I'm afraid I will be staying in London," Diana smiled. "Richard's cousin is coming out this season, and Emily will leave her children in my charge while she is away."

The Colonel frowned, but did not argue. Mary Hart interrupted their conversation and drew Diana into her discussion with Emily about – to Diana's surprise – horses, and it took her a few seconds to remember that Emily was an accomplished horsewoman, though it was a past-time she did not indulge in as often as she had before she had had children. As they spoke, Diana learned that Mary was an excellent rider as well, and the stable at her brother's estate was almost solely hers to use. Diana was not fond of horses, but she enjoyed seeing the delight on Emily's face as she conversed with someone who had such an understanding of and respect for the animals as she did, so she tried to join in as much as she could. Cecelia had gone to make the rounds and greet some more guests, and Dr. Lennox had departed after her, whilst Mr. Lennox was deep in conversation with the Colonel.

A great number of people came by to greet the Colonel at his seat, and the way no one seemed to find his unwillingness to get up and mingle odd made Diana think this was a usual occurrence. Many of the guests gave her curious looks, and Mary Hart took pity on her brother's obliviousness and did the introductions very prettily. Miss Headington was lately arrived in London and training to be an opera singer; Mr. Stuart and Mr. Turner were poets, and Mrs. Turner was a water-colourist who supplemented her income by offering lessons to young ladies during the season; and Miss Thorpe was one of Miss Hart's friends who was staying at the house with them, the daughter of a professor at Oxford.

Diana smiled and chatted and shook hands politely, finding herself not the least bit tired by the time a footman came to announce that dinner was ready. Each guest, though lacking the personality of Mrs. Crawford, was an excellent conversationalist and seemed genuinely pleased to meet her. The men made it a point to ask about Richard and begged her to pass on their well wishes, whilst the women smiled sympathetically, and Miss Thorpe even squeezed her hand gently, her eyes understanding in a way that made Diana wonder who it was that she had sent off to war. Emily joined in the conversations, but otherwise seemed perfectly content to either chat with Mary or Dr. Lennox, who seemed to be giving her quite a bit of his attention.

Dinner was lavish; despite her flippant attitude, Cecelia Hart certainly knew how to entertain a large number of guests. Diana was seated next to an elderly gentleman whose name she had not caught at the beginning of their conversation, but a few minutes after he began to speak she realised she need not have worried. Mr. Charles Brown had a thick northern accent and seemed perfectly content to carry on a one-sided conversation with her for the entire meal, only requiring her to smile and pass him the bread.

It was only when someone reached for the butter the same time as she did, did Diana realise who was sitting at her other side.

"Oh, Dr. Lennox," she blinked. "I beg your pardon, I did not see you there."

"Quite alright," Dr. Lennox gave her a strained smile. "I see you have met Charlie Brown."

"He is a very interesting man," said Diana, lowering her voice even though Charlie had turned to the young man sitting on his other side and was now talking to him animatedly. The gentleman, whose name Diana did not know, seemed utterly confused, but was obviously too polite to interrupt the conversation. "Do you know him well?" she asked.

"I have been coming to the Harts' house for many years, I know almost everyone here," replied Dr. Lennox. "Mrs. Crawford was praising you very highly when I saw her earlier. You made quite an impression, I have heard."

"She is a very interesting woman, I am glad she liked me," said Diana. She wondered where the doctor was taking this conversation – something in his voice made her think he was speaking of one thing when he really wanted to say something else. "Are you in town for the season, doctor?"

"No, madam, I have been practicing here since we last met," suddenly finding his fish very interesting, Dr. Lennox turned back to his plate, but Diana's interest was piqued.

"Oh, with Dr. Burns?"

"Yes," Dr. Lennox still did not look up.

Diana pressed him. "And how is he? I did not know he had stopped seeing patients."

"His health is poor," said Dr. Lennox, busying himself with his glass of water. "He requires some help, and my father has known him for many years. It is a very old practice."

"Oh yes, I know. Dr. Burns was my mother's doctor, you know. Of course, she was in the country for many months but she has returned now," Diana returned to her plate, but from the corner of her eye saw Dr. Lennox's hand, which had just reached for his glass, freeze. "I have no doubt we may see Dr. Burns soon. My mother suffers from ill-health during the colder months," continued Diana slowly. "Though I suppose we will now see you instead, Dr. Lennox?"

"I-I do not know, madam," Dr. Lennox was stammering now, and Diana had never seen a man look so uncomfortable. "I-Dr. Burns still prefers to see his older- that is, his more respected patients himself. Should your mother require his services, I am sure he would come himself. I would not presume…" stammering out apologies, Dr. Lennox dropped his napkin and, blushing profusely, bent down to pick it up.

Though she still did not understand why, the poor man seemed to genuinely ill at ease that Diana took pity on him and injected some humour into her voice. "You needn't fear my mother, Dr. Lennox," Diana smiled and sipped her glass of water when he finally resurfaced from under the table. "A few months in the country have done wonders for her – one could almost say she is a different person."

Dr. Lennox smiled weakly. "For your sake, madam, I am glad to hear that."

Diana merely smiled and changed the subject.

 **{–}**

"Thank you for coming," whispered Cecelia, stealthily managing to hug Diana in between the throng of guests around her who were exchanging goodbyes. "One does not want to do much beyond sitting in bed and reading newspapers these days, I know, but I hope we lifted your spirits for an evening."

"An evening with you does much more than just lift my spirits," said Diana, squeezing her hands. "I am grateful you consider me a friend, Cecelia."

"Of course," Cecelia smiled and turned to say goodbye to Emily, all smiles and chatter as she promised to take her shopping for the newest renovations to the London house that the two women seemed to have planned thoroughly in one evening. Diana, meanwhile, exchanged goodbyes with the Colonel and Mary, as well as the Lennox brothers. Dr. Lennox seemed much less flustered around her now, and Diana cheered silently at the thought that she may have fixed his opinion of her somewhat. She had not forgotten the way he had first looked at her when he had heard her name, and was anxious that any friend of Richard's did not think of her as some spoiled brat or pompous heiress, when she was neither of those things.

Emily turned to Diana after saying her goodbyes, indicating for her to lead the way out. Collecting their wraps from the door, they were followed out the door by a footman who insisted on giving them an extra blanket for their journey home, as well as ensuring that the carpet that had been put from the door to the carriage was not sagging under the snow. Diana smiled and thanked the men who helped them into the carriage, grateful for the extra warmth. Emily heaved a tired sigh as the carriage began moving, and Diana smiled at her.

"Well?" she asked, throwing the blanket over both their legs. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Do not tell Henry I said this, but I wish he and Richard had more mutual friends," Emily sighed. "The difference in the atmosphere between Cecelia Hart's home and someone like your friend Rose's home is staggering, isn't it?"

"I do not think Rose is all bad," Diana defended her friend. "She is no different than any of the other young ladies whose homes we get invitations to. Cecelia is just… different."

"In the best way possible," said Emily. "Of course, every group and class have their problems – I saw many discreet glances and heard an unkind word or too, but it wasn't –"

"Suffocating," murmured Diana, finishing Emily's thought for her. "Yes, I noticed that too. They were not pretending to be better than they are. Perhaps they do not need to; or perhaps they have never had to learn how to."

Emily shrugged, tired by the evening's activities and in no mood for philosophical conversations. Stifling a decidedly un-ladylike yawn behind her hand, she rested her head against Diana's shoulder. "Will you wake me when we are home?"

Diana wanted to retort playfully that she would not, but Emily's eyes were already closed. Smiling, she turned to stare out the window of the carriage. The city was covered in snow, and only a few houses that they passed still had any light coming out the windows. Parents, children, servants – all were asleep, comfortable in the knowledge that tomorrow was another day. Errands had to be run, children would sit down to their lessons, mothers-in-law would click their tongues disapprovingly at their daughters-in-law and men would complain about the flighty natures of their wives, or worry about their sisters' marriage prospects. In other words, they would move forward, not having any reason to look back.

Diana wondered how long it would be before she could do the same.


	7. Chapter 7

"You would think they had not seen each other in years, the way they talk!" said Mina amusedly, watching Elizabeth, Diana and Emily huddle together and whisper and giggle. Georgiana was seated by her sister-in-law, who made an effort to include her in the conversation as best she could. The young Miss Darcy, however, was still quite shy and seemed perfectly content to listen to the chatter of the older women, smiling the whole time.

Lady Alexandra sipped her tea and smiled at her friend's observations. "Indeed. Do you remember when we were like that, dear?"

"Were we ever?" Mina shook her head smilingly. "I suppose we did have our fun, particularly before you married. Do you remember Cathy Bates, Alexandra?"

"Oh, you're teasing me," Lady Alexandra narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Why would you bring up that awful woman now?"

"She was perfectly lovely, and you know it. You simply despised her because she had her eye on your husband."

"Do I need another reason?"

"You never gave me another reason when you begged me to engage him for as many sets as I could, so he would not dance with her," Mina tilted her head knowingly. "Did you ever tell Fitzwilliam about it all?"

"About what all?" the earl asked as he sat down by his wife, Darcy and Henry entering after him. The men had gone to Darcy's study first, and their arrival back into the drawing-room meant the visit would have to end soon, as the Fitzwilliams were supposed to be home to callers that day.

"Oh, nothing," Lady Alexandra sipped her tea and winked discreetly at Mina. "Have you had a chance to finalise a day for Georgiana's coming-out ball, nephew?" she enquired of Darcy.

Darcy bowed and extended a hand towards his wife. "I have given up trying to control anything, aunt. I leave it in your capable hands, and Elizabeth's."

"A smart man," commented Mina. Diana looked up from their conversation, realising before any of the others what was being discussed. "And please, consider me at your service, Darcy. Whatever help I can offer, I would be most happy to give."

Darcy did not smile, but bowed again and thanked her quietly. Mina nodded, and finally the discussion between the three ladies ended, allowing them to converse with the rest of the room. The Darcys had only arrived the day before, and were not seeing callers until the next day; however, Elizabeth had sent a note saying she was home to the Fitzwilliam family and begging them to come see her – her sisters were arriving the week after, and she feared she would be so caught up in shopping and planning balls that she would not have time to have a tête-à-tête with Diana or Emily. Mina wondered what they were discussing, but her daughter's face gave nothing away and the conversation soon shifted to general matters. By the time the visit ended, the Darcys were engaged to come to dinner the following Saturday, and Diana had already scheduled three different shopping trips with both Elizabeth and Georgiana, who had both seemed less than enthusiastic at the thought.

On their way back to Fitzwilliam House, Diana and her mother shared a carriage alone.

"Your rooms should be ready by Sunday, mother," said Diana, flipping through her pocket-book that was, Mina was surprised to note, full of dates and notes scribbled on every page. "We can move your things after church, if you like, or else the day after."

"Whatever is convenient for you," said Mina. "Will I be seeing you often, even after I move?"

"Of course," Diana did not look up from her pocket-book. "I assume the Fitzwilliams will still invite you for dinner every day, and I know you would be lonely on your own. Did you ever head back from Cousin Rupert? I invited him and his family to join us for a few days once the season begins, but he never did tell me if they planned to or not."

"You invited Rupert and his wife to London?" Mina raised her eyebrows. "You despise them, Diana."

Diana frowned. "I do not _despise_ them. I may not like them, but it is only polite. They did take good care of you while you were there, did they not?"

"Yes, they took wonderful care of me. In my own house. Where they live _for free."_

"We could not afford an actual steward to run the estate, mother, you know this," Diana sighed and closed her pocket-book. "I will send them a letter when we are home. Do you have any engagements today?"

"I have dinner at the Wolstein's with your in-laws. I assume you are not joining us?"

Diana wrinkled her nose. "Fortunately, I was not invited. Would you like Sarah to help you dress, or do your hair? I will happily spare her for an evening."

Mina blinked at the offer. Diana had always been very protective of Sarah – the two girls had grown up together, of course, but she had _never_ offered to lend her personal maid to _anyone,_ particularly her mother as Mina's way of handling maids was very different than Diana's. The offer was very uncharacteristic for her daughter, but Mina pounced on it gladly. "Why, yes. I would like that very much. Thank you, dear."

Diana smiled and returned to staring out the window, while Mina bit her lip and tried to control her burgeoning smile.

 **{–}**

"Oh, my dear Mrs. Fitzwilliam!" Cecelia almost sang Diana's name as she waltzed through the door of the parlour before the footman could even announce her. Diana stood up and accepted her warm hug and kiss, noting that the footman seemed resigned to accept the eccentric visitor and bowed his way out of the room. Behind Cecelia, Mary Hart hid her smile behind her hand and offered Diana a much more proper greeting.

"Lovely to see you as well, _Mrs. Hart,"_ teased Diana as they all sat down. She had the small parlour all to herself that afternoon; Emily was entertaining guests in the formal room by the front of the house, but Lady Alexandra had insisted that Diana have use of the smaller – but by no means less elegant – room next to the library "just in case anyone dropped by." Since Diana had been expecting no one other than the Harts, it had been a welcome offer.

"Oh, you tease," Cecelia rolled her eyes and reached for a biscuit without invitation. Mary sighed and stood up to pour the tea, waving away Diana's insistence that she could call in a footman. "Oh, let Mary do it, dear! No need to horrify your staff even more with my manners," giggled Cecelia. "And anyway, what I have to say cannot wait for dignified company! Diana, you were simply the belle of the ball last night. Why, you charmed everyone, even the ones you did not speak to for longer than a minute! Did she not, Mary?"

"We called on several people on our way here, and they are all very taken with you," confirmed Mary, handing Diana a cup of tea. "Mrs. Crawford seemed particularly fond of you. I daresay she will visit you in the next few days."

"It would be a pleasure to see her again. And I am sure my popularity with your friends has everything to do with the kind introduction you gave me, Cecelia. Some would even say _too_ kind," said Diana pointedly.

Cecelia waved away her thanks. "I never lie, Diana, if I did not like you I would not dream of introducing you to my friends. But nevertheless, this went so much better than I thought it would! I was just telling the Colonel this morning that we must have you over more often. Why, you even got _him_ to stop complaining about the evening!"

"He did say he likes talking to you, and my brother does not like talking to any of our friends," added Mary.

Diana laughed. "You both give him such a hard time!"

"Men deserve worse," said Cecelia. "Oh, but we mustn't say that in front of Miss Mary," she added slyly. Diana gave Mary a smile, watching the younger girl turn red immediately. "I daresay we may have some favourable news from her soon, may we not, Miss Mary?"

"Stop it, Cecelia," mumbled Mary. Despite her deep blush, she was trying hard not to smile. "You must ignore her, Mrs. Fitzwilliam."

"Oh, I can ignore _her,_ my dear. What I cannot ignore are knowing glances and lingering eyes," Diana sipped her tea innocently. "And how does the Colonel feel, Cecelia?"

"Oh, that man!" Cecelia scowled. "He has no clue, of course. I daresay when his permission is asked he will get quite a shock – though we may have to wait a while yet."

"Why is that?" asked Diana curiously. Robert Lennox had certainly not made his intentions towards Miss Hart a secret.

"Oh, Richard had a little talk with Robert the last time he saw him. I wouldn't be surprised if he had threatened to flog him should he think of doing something before he returned," laughed Cecelia.

Mary finally huffed and put her cup down, departing towards the window and refusing to listen to her sister-in-law's entreaties to come back. Both women were smiling, however, so Diana allowed them to have their mock-tiff as she stared down at her teacup, smiling. Of course, that sounded like something Richard would do. He was fond of Mary Hart, and had he not told Diana more than once that he would dearly miss making Georgiana's potential suitors uncomfortable after her coming-out? Clearly, he had been unwilling to forgo another opportunity.

The rest of the visit passed in the same vein, with Cecelia teasing her sister-in-law mercilessly and Diana mediating when entreated by Mary, who clearly enjoyed being teased about Mr. Lennox but knew it was improper to show it. Halfway through the visit, someone knocked on the parlour door and interrupted Diana just as she was scolding Cecelia for mimicking Mr. Lennox's tendency to stare at Mary when she was not looking at him.

"Pardon me, madam," it was Sarah. Her voice was quiet, and she hovered in the doorway awkwardly, wringing her apron in her left hand. In her right hand, she held an envelope. "I – this just came for you."

"Couldn't it wait, Sarah?" Diana raised her eyebrows but held out her hand nevertheless. Sarah entered the room and placed the thick envelope in her palm gently, nervous but bright-eyed, her skin flushed as though from the sun. Diana gave her a bemused look and turned over the envelope to find the seal was broken, but the handwriting on the outside was immediately familiar.

Diana dropped her half-empty cup of tea, and the dark liquid stained the hem of her dress as it spilled all over the new carpet. Cecelia jumped and urgently enquired if Diana was alright, while Sarah sprang for napkins to blot the liquid before it could stain the carpet completely. Only Mary seemed quiet, and Diana did not need to look up to know that she had silenced her sister-in-law with a look, already knowing what the envelope in Diana's hands contained.

Diana did not move even as Sarah moved around her to clean up the mess and Cecelia sat down next to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. The handwriting on the envelope was swimming before her eyes, but even as the edges of her vision turned dark she blinked rapidly and desperately tried to hold on to the image in front of her. She had not forgotten Richard's handwriting – how could she? – but to see it in her hands instead of locked away in the desk drawer that Sarah still refused to give her complete access to was more overwhelming than she had thought it would be. Though she still wrote her weekly letters to him, she had forced herself to accept that he may not be receiving them and, even if he was, there was little chance he could respond to her with the same haste with which she wrote them. And yet, the envelope in her hands contained at least four sheets of paper, making it possibly the longest letter she had ever received from him.

"When did this arrive, Sarah?" asked Mary quietly. Her voice jerked Diana out of her reverie, and she tore her eyes away from the envelope to look at Sarah beseechingly.

"We had someone deliver it from the War Offices just now, miss," said Sarah quietly. "The Major General was finally able to send word to his father that he was safe, and he sent letters addressed to my mistress and his mother. My lady insisted that I deliver them immediately."

Diana let out a deep sigh, the thought that she had not allowed herself to consider, that the letters were the precursor to bad news, finally pushed out of her mind. Cecelia and Mary stood to take their leave, and Diana automatically attempted to stand, to speak, but her throat had gone dry. Cecelia merely smiled and kissed her cheek, and Mary offered her an uncharacteristically tight hug as they both big her goodbyes and made her promise to send them a note later that day to let Colonel Hart know how Richard was doing.

As the door shut behind them, Diana sank back down onto the sofa and rubbed her eyes with one hand, the other still clutching the envelope. She suddenly felt impossibly tired and yet energetic at the same time, as though the weeks of not hearing from her husband had been physically draining her and seeing his handwriting was a shot of adrenaline, because of which she did not quite know what to do with herself now.

"Would you like me to help you up to your room, madam?" asked Sarah quietly, and Diana jumped in surprise. She had almost forgotten that she was not alone.

Diana shook her head. "No, I think I'll stay," she said, surprised to find that her voice was not as hoarse as she had assumed it would be. A sudden thought occurred to her, and she looked at Sarah apologetically. "Oh Sarah, I am so sorry. I didn't even think – I forgot – have you had word from John?"

Sarah smiled softly, patting her apron pocket. The sound of loose paper made Diana smile as well. "They are safe, both of them," she squeezed Diana's hand and indicated the door. "I'll ask them not to disturb you, madam."

"Thank you," whispered Diana. Sarah smiled again and left, shutting the door behind her softly with a _click._ Diana let out a shaky breath and looked back at the envelope, chewing her lip as she carefully removed the sheets of paper from inside it. At the top was a date a week old, meaning he had likely started writing it before the family had arrived in London:

 _My dearest Diana,_

 _What would I do, my love, without your words to bring me comfort? Nothing will ever compare to seeing your face, hearing your voice and feeling you fall asleep in my arms, but every time I see my name written in your hand on the page, my mind is at peace. It never lasts for long, because I miss you unbearably every time I see it, and yet I would not have it any other way. Your letters are sporadic, but I must reassure you that they do indeed arrive, and every story you tell is a welcome reprieve from the realities at the front._

 _Your thirst for knowledge about the war and our predicament is admirable, my darling, and I would never disrespect you by asking you not to read the papers or try to gain information, but I must once again beg you to not believe everything you read, good or bad. News is often exaggerated, whether to pressure people into supporting the war or to bolster up spirits, as I can tell yours desperately need. Despite the innocuous contents of this letter, I am too wary of it falling into the wrong hands to give you any information that could place my regiment or yourself in any danger, so I will once again simply assure you of my personal safety and commitment to returning to you as soon as I had planned, and not a moment more._

 _Your news about the Robson family was very welcome, and I am sorry I never told you of my friendship with Joe. Many of the people who live on the estate are like him and his family, and I fear if I tell you too much you may be tempted to help them all. I cannot fault you for that, however – no doubt if you ask Sarah to wheedle Cook and Mrs. Edwards a bit more, they will tell you many stories that will make you smile. The Fitzwilliam gleam of mischief that you so wonderfully described seeing in little Henry has not left my eyes yet either, my love, and I promise to make you laugh every day when I return to apologise for the worry I cause you now, and to thank you for the grace with which you allowed me to go._

 _I am glad to hear Sarah has been sticking to our agreement and is not letting you read my letters more often than she should. It must vex you, I know, but would you not rather have some contact with me, poor though the form is, at least once every month rather than none at all? I do pat myself on the back for thinking of it, I must tell you, and more than one officer here has commended me on my foresight. Only last week a young Colonel Brandon informed me of his engagement and his worries that his sweetheart will forget him, so I hope you will excuse my forwardness that I told him our story – or parts of it – to put his mind at ease. He was grateful and sends you his best wishes, as well as a hope that you may run into his betrothed somewhere in town. Of course, that may be because I described you to be the kindest, loveliest, and most intelligent woman I have ever known – but if I remember right, it was similar praise that led you to tell me off in your last letter, since the Harts have now invited you to go riding with them. Have you managed that yet, or have you bowed out? I have no doubt should you put your mind to it you will be an excellent horsewoman, but as I write this I am struck by how dangerous it may be, and I could not bear it if I returned to find you injured due to a bad-tempered horse. Perhaps you will allow me the honour of teaching you to ride when I return? Though the pleasures of riding across the estate with you sitting behind me, almost scandalously close, are what I dream of daily, it may be nice to be able to ride alongside you sometimes. We will have time enough to do it when I return, I promise you._

 _Perhaps my constant promises and assurances are making you anxious now. Are you frowning as you read this, Diana? If you are, you must stop immediately. I expect you to look just as lovely as your portrait when I return; I am looking at it now and since I have little else to remember you by, I must insist you not change too much while I am away. A few more laugh lines are acceptable, however: for that, a few visits to Cecelia Hart and one of her famous soirees ought to do the trick. I regret not being able to accompany you to your first one, and you must send me a detailed account of how you got on when you do go. Or perhaps you have attended one already? Mrs. Crawford is the one you should watch out for, you would get along smashingly, though I am sure Cecelia will introduce you to everyone of interest herself._

 _Speaking of the Harts, do mention to Robert Lennox if you can, slyly, to hold off proposing to young Mary until I return, and I must insist you tell Darcy and Elizabeth in no uncertain terms that all suitors for Georgiana are to be turned away without a second glance until I and my sword are there to inspect them first. Only, do give them my love before you declare this. You mentioned the plans for Georgiana's coming-out were being left to you more and more, and while I am as wary of your mother as you are, my love, it may be prudent to seek her advice. I do not want you to throw yourself into work as a distraction, since we know not everyone will be kind to you at the_ ton's _events. Your mother is not my favourite person either, but she knows how to handle society better than either one of us. I am sure Mamma and even Mrs. Reynolds would be willing to help you, so please seek their advice should you need it._

 _I do not need to see your face to know that you are tired, Diana. You are tired of worrying about me, of being a good daughter to your mother and your in-laws, a friend to Emily and Elizabeth and an aunt to Henry. I would not be your husband, and your friend, if I needed to hear your voice to know this is what you meant when you said you missed me. I cannot say I regret where I am and what I am doing, my love, but I do regret leaving you. Our lives have been a series of intersections that I would not give up for anything else in the world, but I too am tired of fighting for more time with you. I know I last said I did not know where our future would be, whether I would leave the military or not, but now I find my resolve to stay weakening. You say in your letters time and time again that you must be strong for me, or that it is my presence that gives you strength, but I wish you could experience how I feel when I have you by my side. I would not have had the courage to leave if you had not understood my reasons without me having to say them, my love, and I know you fought hard with yourself to hide your fears. Again, I am eternally in your debt, and perhaps one way to clear my debt is to ask you to consider where you would like to live once I return? My mother would tell us not to even think so far into the future when so much is at stake, but even though I am not on the frontlines of this war as many braver men are, I find myself becoming more and more aware of my mortality every day, and I want something to look forward to. What part of the country do you prefer? Devon, near where you grew up? Derbyshire, to stay near our family? Or perhaps somewhere new, an adventure we can both have together? I have decided so much for us by leaving you so soon into our marriage, it is only fair I give you a larger say in what happens next. I leave this decision to you, my love. Only know, I would follow you anywhere._

 _I do not know how soon this letter will reach you, though I have plans to write to my mother and father as well and enclose them all together. The new general who took over for Crooke has assured me it will not be long before we can get word home safely, and I have managed to sneak in a few pages for Sarah from John as well. I am sure she will forgive my boldness, but all the comforts of the world cannot soothe an aching heart and one feels especially lonely in a place like this._

 _I am loathe to end this letter, but I have already written double the length I was planning to, and there is only so long I can stay locked away from the rest of the camp before they start wondering where I am. However, it comforts me to know that, even if you may not hear from me regularly for the next few months, you will nevertheless have something to read, if Sarah keeps to our agreement. If you get half as much joy and peace (I did not know those two emotions could even occur simultaneously until I met you) from simply seeing my handwriting as I do from seeing yours, the letters will be of some comfort._

 _Keep writing to me, my love, even if it is just to soothe yourself. I will endeavour to answer you as promptly as I can, and you must not worry if I cannot. My every waking thought is of you, and that is not to say I am not being careful or not taking care of myself here, but just to remind you that I long to be near you just as much as you long for me to return, and I have no intention of disappointing you. Your prayers, your love, and my memories of you will keep me safe and sane until I see you again._

 _I love you, Diana Fitzwilliam.  
Yours faithfully,  
RICHARD._

* * *

 **Hello friends and comrades! I know it's been a while but as I always say in my author notes, I will never forget this story. Christmas break is coming up and I'm hoping to have at least 1 more update for you before the new year (if not more!) so never fear, Diana and Richard aren't leaving you yet!**

 **This chapter was emotionally exhausting to write, I was saving a letter from Richard for later on but as I've always said, this story has the tendency to run away from me and this is where it wanted to end up! It's also why I was late in updating, because I had to be in *that* headspace to write a letter like this. I won't ruin the magic for you anymore than I already have, but I hope you enjoyed it because I know so many of you were hoping to hear from him soon. We're still in the early stages of the story though, but I'm loving everyone's commitment to a HEA and all the theories you throw my way with every update! Keep 'em coming; you never know what I might let slip in my replies!**

 **Stay tuned for the next chapter, and I hope I managed to reply to everyone's reviews before this update as well. Until next time, much love xx**


	8. Chapter 8

The Fitzwilliam family followed a strict schedule when they were in town; callers came and went at specific times, meals were always punctual, and unexpected guests were never truly unexpected, since Lady Alexandra had a sixth sense for when someone would come to call. And so life in Fitzwilliam House ran smoothly no matter what time of the year it was, but the arrival of Richard's letters had thrown the whole house into chaos.

Of course, Diana did not realise the extent of the chaos until she left the parlour.

When she unlocked the parlour door almost two hours after Sarah left her, her eyes were dry and Richard's letter was safely tucked away in her pocket-book, to be put with the rest of her papers in her bedroom when she went upstairs. Upon exiting the parlour, however, she was met by a nervous-looking footman.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, wracking her brains to try and remember the man's name. "Smith, what is it?"

"My lady is very distressed," he responded, eyes fixed on the floor and hands wringing anxiously. "I – she – that is to say, madam, that she left callers to go and read a letter and has not come out of the library since. My lord is concerned but has asked us to leave her alone, as she wishes."

Diana bit her lip and nodded, dismissing the man and making her way to the library. The door was indeed shut, but not locked, and she knocked softly before poking her head in. "Mamma?" she called softly. "It is only Diana. Are you in here?"

"Diana?" Lady Alexandra's voice rang out, clear and crisp as always. "I am here, my dear. What is it?"

"I was just looking for you," Diana entered and shut the door behind herself, following the sound of Lady Alexandra's voice to the edge of the room. Her mother-in-law was sitting by the window, and the curtains were pulled back to offer a view of the garden, where Little Henry was playing with his younger sister, a nurse and a maid. To the untrained eye, it seemed as though a doting grandmother was merely watching her grandchildren enjoy the sunny weather, but Diana was not fooled. Lady Alexandra was holding a piece of paper in her hand that was covered in familiar handwriting, and though she was smiling at Diana, her eyes were red. "The footman said you were in here," continued Diana, pretending as though there was nothing odd about sitting in a dark library in the middle of the day when there were still callers to be greeted. "May I sit with you?"

"I – yes, of course," Lady Alexandra blinked in surprise and indicated the chair opposite her. Diana smiled in thanks and sat down, glancing out the window to see Little Henry chasing a butterfly. "Did you need something, dear?" she asked.

"I thought I wanted to be alone, but then decided I would rather not," Diana shrugged. "Wouldn't you rather be with your callers, Mamma? I did not think you would leave Emily to fend off your friends for so long."

"It has not been that long, has it?" Lady Alexandra smiled feebly.

"Almost two hours."

"Ah."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Lady Alexandra looked surprised. "Talk about what?"

"Whatever it was in his letter that made you want to be alone."

"How did you –"

"Because his letter to me was perfect, so naturally he had to say something upsetting in his letter to you," Diana rolled her eyes, and Lady Alexandra smiled despite herself. "What did he say?"

"You do not have to take care of me, Diana," Lady Alexandra shook her head smilingly. "I know your tricks, my dear, and I won't have them."

"Tricks?"

"Tricking people into thinking you are not hurting, so you may help those who are," Lady Alexandra sighed. "I am an old woman, my dear, and I want to live out my days in my home, surrounded by my family who will cater to my every whim. Your husband isn't letting me have what I want. You must allow an old woman her reproaches, and the tears that come with them."

Diana laughed. "Mamma, if you insist on calling yourself old I _will_ think there is something wrong with you. Won't you tell me what he said that has upset you so?" Lady Alexandra pursed her lips and shook her head, and Diana sighed. "Well then, shall I tell you what has upset me?"

Lady Alexandra frowned in concern. "What has he said?"

"Nothing. That is the problem," Diana huffed and leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. "When a man writes you a love letter from the war front, how can you be angry at him? I am itching to start a fight with him, and he is ruining it by not being here."

Lady Alexandra blinked. "I – I don't understand."

"No? I think you do," Diana took the letter out of her pocket-book and flipped through it. "Here, he talks about how he thinks about me all the time. And here, he insists on talking about the future; where we will live, what we will do, how I should prepare, as if he's gone away on holiday instead of off to war. And here again, he talks as though he is sitting right next to me and reading my face as I read his letter. It is infuriating how well he knows me. Oh, that man!" she scowled and stuffed the letter back out of sight.

"So, if I understand correctly," said Lady Alexandra slowly. "You are frustrated… because of how well he knows you?"

"Of course!" Diana threw up her hands in exasperation. "Aren't you? How is one to be angry at a man who knows exactly _why_ and _how_ you will be angry, and offers you comfort without even needing to be here himself? It's entirely unfair; had I known he was such a gifted writer, I would never have consented to this marriage."

Lady Alexandra let out a short, bemused laugh. "It sounds a little ridiculous, dear."

"Perhaps it is. That does not make it any less valid."

Lady Alexandra's eyes flickered away at Diana's words, back out the window to watch Little Henry, but the little boy and his companions were gone. The empty garden was still, and Lady Alexandra's eyes glassed over as she continued to look at it. Diana kept silent, knowing her mother-in-law's thoughts were not her own at that moment.

"When he was a little boy, he would always insist on taking me outside if the weather was nice," said Lady Alexandra softly. "It started when he was six. He would throw tantrums, refuse to eat supper, hit his brother; any number of things to get attention, particularly mine. And I was so protective of him. I'm sure you know by now that I almost had two more children after him," Diana bit her lip but nodded; Richard had told her of his mother's difficulty to conceive years ago. Lady Alexandra did not need to look at her to know her answer, and kept speaking, "Richard was too young at the time to know that he had practically lost two siblings, but he knew _something_ was wrong, and he knew it had to do with me. And so, he began to insist I accompany him to the garden when we were in town, or on his riding lessons or around the estate when we were in the country. And I obliged; not because I wanted to, or I enjoyed the exercise, because for years after I lost those babies I could barely make myself leave my bed. But I did it because I could not bear to say no to him. And watching him learning to ride, or make friends with the children around the estate, or even just watching him pluck up weeds with the gardener right there -" she raised a hand and touched the window-pane, her finger leaving a mark on the frosted glass. "- it gave me a sense of purpose I did not even realise I had lost. And to this day, if he even suspects something is wrong or if I am upset about anything, he will walk into my room and toss me my hat and say 'Come, Mamma, let's go for a walk.' I know we mothers are not supposed to have favourites, Diana," she sighed and gave her a small smile. "People always say that, but it isn't entirely true. I love both my sons equally, of course, but if I had to pick a favourite…" she trailed off.

"He's the one you want to take a walk with," murmured Diana. Discreetly, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and smiled at her mother-in-law. "I do understand, you know."

Lady Alexandra sighed and picked up the folded letter that she had thus far been ignoring. Unfolding it, she smoothed it in her lap and offered it to Diana. "The second paragraph will be of interest to you.

Diana accepted the letter, her eyes zoning in on the appropriate section.

 _…_ _Mamma, I hope you are_ _taking advantage of my absence to ride Mustang and_ _getting your_ _exercise, as well as keeping my horse in shape_ _. Should I return and find that I could beat you in a race across the estate, I would be sorely disappointed. I hope you do not plan to replace me as a companion on your evening strolls – I have greedily kept the title as your human walking stick for many years now, and refuse to give it up. However, if I must, I would be much obliged if you would take on my wife as your companion. She is so busy making sure my family does not miss my presence, I worry that she will not allow anyone to take care of her in the same way. But, Mamma, my first love, I know_ _you_ _will._

Diana sniffed and handed back the letter, her tears running freely now. Lady Alexandra smiled sadly, and Diana laughed breathlessly. "There! He did it again!"

"He does always know what to say, doesn't he?" Lady Alexandra chuckled. "If only his father had been this charming when we were engaged; perhaps I would not have had to resort to threatening to run away with his cousin to get him to propose."

Momentarily distracted, Diana gaped. "What do you mean?"

"Ah, another story for another time," Lady Alexandra winked and stood up, smoothing out invisible creases from her dress and offering Diana her hand. "Perhaps it is time to return to the drawing room now?" Diana nodded and immediately stood up, even as Lady Alexandra glanced at the doorway warily. "Of course, we can stay a bit longer, if you like."

"No, Mamma," said Diana gently. "Tempting as it is to lock ourselves away, it is not healthy. And it isn't what Richard would want you to do, not at all."

"No, you're right," Lady Alexandra sighed. "I don't remember it being this difficult last time."

Diana bit her lip. "I understand. And you can always come to me, if you like. I know he's told you to look after me, but I would like company. I would like to know I am not the only one who feels this way."

"Rest assured, my dear, you are not the only one," Lady Alexandra sighed. Then, almost as though she were shaking the negative thoughts from her mind, she shook her head and forced her voice to be cheerful. "Come now, let us rescue Emily from the dreaded Lady Spencer, and show my husband that he need not call in a doctor for his hysterical wife."

"As if anyone would dare call you hysterical," Diana rolled her eyes and followed her out the door.

Lady Alexandra smirked. "Of course not. They know better than that, don't they?"

 **{–}**

Henry and Emily departed for their five-week trip around the Lake District a few days after Richard's letter arrived, and the entire family saw them off with a light heart, knowing that Richard was, at least for the moment, safe. Emily had been reluctant to part with her children, but Diana had given her any number of assurances that they would receive her full and undivided attention, and Lady Alexandra was most insistent that young couples deserved some time just to themselves, away from the constant interruptions that came with living in a big family home. Henry had rolled his eyes, kissed Diana's cheek and opted to wait in the carriage while his wife went over every minute detail of her children's schedules with the other two women. By the end, Diana had been glad to be rid of them, and had puppeteer-ed little Margaret's hand into a wave as they drove off. The little girl had been utterly oblivious to the goodbyes, and merely giggled into her aunt's shoulder.

Even Little Henry had not been too upset as the carriage left. He had dutifully waved off his parents with his nurse from the front steps of the house, returned inside to finish his breakfast, and then submitted to three hours of lessons with his governess more willingly than ever before. Margaret had been fussy since her parents' departure, but she was just learning to crawl about, so Diana had taken her into her bedroom and built a wall of pillows around her, trapping her in the middle of the floor with some new toys. The baby's distraction allowed her to mindlessly doodle in her sketchbook for the rest of the morning, and enabled the nurse to enjoy some time to herself, which Diana knew Emily did not give the young woman enough of. By the late afternoon, Margaret was dozing against a pillow and Diana had prepared a rather decent sketch of her niece, which she resolved to finish within the week and send to her parents as a keepsake. She was debating whether to start afresh or keep working on the same page when Sarah walked in with a selection of dresses.

"What on earth are those for?" asked Diana, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Lady Rosalind's has invited you for dinner this evening," reminded Sarah. Ignoring Diana's groan, she laid out three dresses carefully on the bed and hung up another one on the cupboard's door handle. "The three velvets are lovely, but the silk is new and you know Lady Rose prefers it when you wear new dresses to her home."

"Why did I agree to go to dinner today?" demanded Diana. "The children are here, I cannot just leave them!"

"The children have three nurses, a governess, and their grandparents at home to look after them," said Sarah without missing a beat. "You told Lady Rose last week you would attend, and it is too late for you to send a message saying you will not come now. Besides, she invited Mrs. Darcy specifically on your request, and you have only gone out twice since you arrived in London. It will do you good to see some friends."

"None of those people are my friends."

"Acquaintances, then," Sarah picked up the velvet dresses and left the silk hanging on the cupboard. "The silk will do nicely, I think. I will put out the blue slippers and see if Lady Alexandra will let you borrow a thicker shawl since it looks like snow. What colour would you like?"

"Surprise me," Diana sighed, and Sarah nodded before leaving the room. Mentally wondering at what point her maid had decided to forgo her timid personality and instead start ordering her about, she scooped up Margaret and carried her back to the nursery, handing her over to the nurse – who gave her an extra bright smile – and peeped into the adjoining room to check in on Little Henry. He was absorbed in his sums, so she slipped out before he could notice her. Her two main responsibilities taken care of, Diana sighed before trudging up to her room, where Sarah was waiting to help her get ready for dinner.

With time to spare, Diana submitted to a bath, allowed her maid to wash her hair and played with the bottle of lavender oil as Sarah chattered on aimlessly, her only goal being to divert her mistress' thoughts. Diana was not totally averse to the evening's activities – she enjoyed Elizabeth's company, and she had not seen Rose nearly enough since arriving in town – but she was tired, already feeling the beginnings of a headache behind her eyes. They had become more frequent since Richard's last letter, and Diana had no doubt they would get worse the longer it took for her to hear from him again. All things considered, she supposed she was handling his absence quite well. A headache here and there and the odd days when her appetite failed her were of no consequence in the long run.

The Darcy carriage was announced while Diana was still making her hair, and Elizabeth knocked on her bedroom room and came inside just as Sarah was attempting to pin up Diana's curls one last time.

"Am I late?" asked Diana, turning to greet Elizabeth only to wince and straighten her head again when Sarah yanked on a curl aggressively. "Pardon me, my dear, I will give you a hug in just a second. If I have any hair left, that is."

"You are not late, Diana, I am merely early," Elizabeth smiled and sat down on the chair by the dressing-table, giving Sarah a smile as well. "That is a lovely dress, is it new?"

"You can never wear old dresses to Rose's house; she won't hear of it," Diana rolled her eyes. "You look remarkably well, Lizzie, dare I say London agrees with you?"

"I do believe it agrees with me much more than it does my family," Elizabeth laughed.

"Is Darcy still worrying about Georgiana's coming-out?" asked Diana.

Elizabeth nodded. "He is by turns absolutely manic, depressed, affectionate, and then depressed all over again. I was almost glad for an excuse to leave those two alone. You would think it was his only child getting married, the way he is behaving."

Diana giggled. "Oh, he is a sweet man. And how is Georgiana?"

"Excited, to be sure. Aunt Alexandra brought her some jewels her mother left her and she was so taken with them, but I do believe she wants the whole thing over and done with so she can return to her music room at Pemberley," Elizabeth shook her head fondly. "They are quite a pair."

"Well, I'm glad you aren't too upset at me stealing you away for an evening," said Diana, patting her hair securely as Sarah finally stepped away. "Rose's gatherings are never boring, and the wine is always excellent. She is also a very good friend to have, particularly if you don't enjoy London society."

Elizabeth inclined her head. "Are we still on that, Diana? I thought we agreed London society was nearly not so fearful as the family said."

"It isn't," agreed Diana. She stood up and smoothed her dress, draping her shawl over her shoulders and picking up a matching fan from her jewellery box. "And it won't be, as long as you have me around," she smiled brilliantly, showing all her teeth. Elizabeth laughed.

 **{–}**

Rosalind Bertram's house was just as splendid as the last time Diana had entered it, though there was a newly purchased watercolour in the foyer and the flowers had changed from the garden variety that Rose usually picked to brightly coloured bouquets dotted about the room, a new fashion trend that Diana had no doubt her friend would inform her of as soon as she saw her.

"Charming," commented Elizabeth, handing off her wrap and coat to a maid just behind Diana and joining her at the edge of the room, where they would stay until Diana saw someone worth introducing Elizabeth to. "Is Lady Rose here?"

"She will find us," said Diana, accepting a glass of wine from a footman and noted that Elizabeth refused, preferring to keep her hands free. "The wine really is excellent, dear."

"I have no doubt, but I do not like wine," smiled Elizabeth. "Is it terribly rude to refuse?"

"Not at all. It's terribly rude to refuse _this_ wine, however," Diana winked and took a sip. "You know, Richard hates these sort of things, but even he agrees that Rose has excellent taste, and the man is utterly pompous when it comes to wine."

Elizabeth laughed. Two people came up to the ladies just then, a gentleman with a much younger woman, and Diana diligently made introductions and smiled genially as the gentleman asked after Richard, her in-laws, even her mother. The younger woman said nothing, and Elizabeth merely mimicked Diana's smile until the two walked away. When they did, Diana's expression became indifferent again.

"Are they related to our hostess?" asked Elizabeth curiously. Diana had introduced them with the name Bertram, but had not elaborated.

"Oh, yes," Diana smiled, a little wickedly. "That was our hostess' father, Sir John Bertram, and his new wife, Isabella. I do believe she was at school with Rose, for the two years that Rose agreed to go to that awful school where they teach you how to arrange flowers and dismiss maids instead of anything useful."

Elizabeth gaped. "That was his _wife?"_

"Of course. Why, they're only twenty years apart. Is that so bad?" laughing at Elizabeth's shock, Diana sipped her wine and continued to people watch. "Rose's mother was lovely, you know, he could hardly hope to bring a second wife who could compete with her. The estate and title is entailed anyway, and Rose's marriage to Ralph Bolton will ensure she has nothing to worry about for the rest of her life. We must let Sir John have his fun while he can."

Elizabeth shook her head bemusedly. "You are certainly very liberal this evening."

"Look around, Lizzie," Diana gestured around the room with her nearly-empty glass. "Half the people here hate each other, and the other half were probably engaged to each other at some point. There are at least two men here who proposed to me after one too many drinks at Almack's at some point, I'm sure. A second marriage to a much younger woman is the least harmful thing anyone here has done, I assure you."

Elizabeth looked slightly amused. "You talk as though you do not want to be here at all."

Diana grimaced. "Oh dear, I do hope Rose doesn't hear me talk like this. Have you seen –"

"There you are!" as if on cue, their hostess appeared in a flurry of pink silk and lace, and the scent of roses. "Oh, Mrs. Darcy, I am _so_ glad you could come. And you!" Rose air-kissed both Diana's cheeks and crushed her hand. "Mrs. Diana Fitzwilliam! We have _so_ much to discuss. You promised to be in my wedding party, don't forget!"

"I haven't forgotten, my dear, of course," Diana squeezed her friend's hand back, the reluctant affection she felt for Rose burgeoning again at the younger woman's enthusiasm. "I was just telling Mrs. Darcy how lovely the house looks this evening. Have you changed your florist?"

"Oh, of course you noticed!" Rose clapped her hands together delightedly. "It was Sir Ralph's idea, actually. I don't know if you've noticed, but he does love colour, and I realised I was leaning too much towards paler tones, and while I suppose that is fine for my father's taste, Sir Ralph has been encouraging me to be more expressive with my decorating, and I thought –"

"And where is Sir Ralph this evening?" Diana cut into Rose's excited rant smoothly. "Do not tell me he has left you to host this alone."

"Oh, he is still in the country. He will be coming down next week, with his mother and his sisters," Rose's face fell just a fraction. "I hate to ask, Diana, but would you –"

"Of course, I will host them all when they arrive. You know how long I have known Sir Ralph and all the Boltons," Diana smiled, though inwardly she winced. Sir Ralph was one thing, but his female relatives had always made her want to fall asleep from boredom. "Now, you must go mingle, dear. Mrs. Darcy and I will be quite happy here until you come back to us."

Rose smiled and nodded and squeezed Elizabeth's hand, again expressing how glad she was that she had accepted her invitation. Blowing Diana a kiss, she left in the same swirl of silk she had arrived in, and when she was safely across the room Elizabeth giggled out loud, while Diana signalled a footman for another glass of wine.

"Well, that's Rose," Diana accepted her new glass and turned to face Elizabeth, who suddenly looked wary. "What is it, dear? You look like you've seen –"

"Good evening, my lady," interrupted Elizabeth, her eyes fixed on someone over Diana's shoulder. "We did not know you would be coming."

"I only just decided today, my dear, I've been unwell," said a smooth, familiar voice. Diana froze, and she inhaled deeply before her face morphed into a smile, and she turned around to greet Lady Ellen Carmichael.

"Pardon me, Aunt Ellen, I did not see you," she apologised, kissing the elder woman's cheeks and stepping aside so Elizabeth could do the same. "Why did you not tell us you would be joining us? We could have shared a carriage."

"I was rather under the weather this week, I thought Alexandra would have told you," said Lady Ellen, waving away Diana's apologies with her fan. She did not smile, but she did not look unpleasant, so Diana contrived to be civil. "I heard there was a letter from my nephew, some weeks ago now. What news of him is there?"

Diana assured her that Richard was well and promised to include her love next time she wrote; for a fraction of a second, it was easy to pretend nothing had changed, since Lady Ellen's expression and tone of voice were never less than loving when she talked of her favourite nephew. The moment soon passed, however, and the lady turned her attention to Mrs. Darcy, effectively ignoring Diana. Sipping her wine and trying to disregard the slight tremor in her hands, Diana pretended to listen to their conversation, all the while scanning the room for someone, anyone, whom she could use as an excuse to walk away. She saw no one, however, and it was some minutes before Lady Ellen excused herself and walked away to find the friend that she had arrived with. By then, Diana had finished her glass and was seeking another.

"Is the wine that good?" asked Elizabeth casually.

Diana ignored the hidden judgement behind her words and took a gulp. "The wine is excellent, but Rose's guest list always leaves much to be desired. Shall we take a turn about the room?" Elizabeth nodded and linked their arms, and Diana took another sip from her glass before setting it down on the table by her elbow. Smoothing her dress, she offered Elizabeth a much more genuine smile than the one she had given Lady Ellen, and indicated an elderly couple a few feet away. "Have you met Mr. Atkins? He is a great friend of Lord Byron."

 **{–}**

"That's more than three glasses now," murmured Rose, linking her arm through Elizabeth's as she smilingly excused the new Mrs. Darcy from the company of the elderly woman who had cornered her. To her credit, Elizabeth did not stop smiling and allowed herself to be led away, across the room to where both women could catch sight of their mutual friend.

Elizabeth cleared her throat awkwardly. "I hadn't noticed," she said, though her eyes worriedly followed Diana as she moved from one group to the next, her steps even and balanced and her demeanour the same as it always was.

"You had noticed, my dear Mrs. Darcy, or else you would not have taken at least one glass out of her hand when she was distracted," said Rose, her voice quiet. From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth noted that their hostess was watching Diana with much more concern than she was allowing herself to show. "I know the Major General's departure has been hard on her, and Lord only knows his aunt is not the kindest woman to her these days, but I did not know it was bad enough that she would forgo her usual restraint in this way. I only speak so freely because I know you, as I, only want the best for her."

Elizabeth sighed. "I fear neither of us can know how she is feeling. She has sent a husband away to war; I can barely send my husband away to London on business."

"I know, my dear," Rose nodded sympathetically. "I merely worry about her; there is little else she will allow me to do, after all. Do you know if she is feeling alright? Perhaps she is unwell, and the wine is helping her stomach."

"Perhaps," said Elizabeth, though her lips twitched in amusement at Rose's defence. "I do think it is just worry, however. The family had a letter from Richard a few weeks ago, and Lady Alexandra was very upset; no doubt Diana pushed her own feelings aside to look after the family, and is still doing so even today."

"No doubt," agreed Rose. Sighing, she patted Elizabeth's arm. "Well, I hope you are enjoying yourself, Mrs. Darcy. Diana may worry us this evening, but she is perfectly capable of looking after herself in public. I do not believe she has ever done anything that would warrant my concern, and furthermore –"

"Oh, dear Lord!" an unfamiliar woman's voice interrupted Rose, and both women turned towards the source of the exclamation immediately. "Lady Rosalind, your guest!"

"Pardon me!" forgetting she was still connected to Elizabeth, Rose began to fight her way through the crowd and Elizabeth followed, a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. A small group had gathered around a chair, where an individual was being helped to sit down. A gentleman brought a glass of brandy over, and a lady with a large pink feather in her hair helped the patient to drink it; as Rose pushed past her, Elizabeth saw who the patient was, and turned pale.

"I'm perfectly alright, there is no need for that," said Diana, her voice loud even though she was white as a sheet, and her hand trembled as she pushed the brandy away. Her eyes rested on Elizabeth and she attempted to smile reassuringly, but it did not seem real. She looked shaken, an expression that Elizabeth had never seen on her cousin's face before. Above all, however, she seemed _confused;_ as Rose urgently enquired as to what had happened, Diana did not seem to be able to provide her with an answer.

"Mrs. Fitzwilliam felt faint, my dear. It is a good thing my husband was nearby and offered her his arm, or else she would have fallen to the floor," supplied the woman with the pink feather, Mrs. Arnold. She sounded kind, despite her garish hair accessory, and patted Diana on the shoulder reassuringly. "It _is_ a bit hot in here, I am sure if you hadn't swooned I would have eventually."

Diana murmured her thanks and pressed Mr. Arnold's hand, clearly acquainted with the couple. For a few moments, she allowed the ladies to talk over her head; some discussed the temperature of the room, Rose thanked Mrs. Arnold for her help, and even Isabella Bertram appeared to enquire what all the fuss was about. It only lasted a few moments, however; sooner than perhaps strictly appropriate, Diana was standing up from her chair, quietly murmuring to Rose to call her carriage and indicating to Elizabeth that they would be leaving.

"Are you sure?" whispered Elizabeth, linking their arms and allowing Diana to lean on her. Rose was holding her other arm, but she was holding her in place instead of offering support; on her other side, Mrs. Arnold was telling the story of how she had fainted at her coming-out ball and had nearly taken down a duke with her in the process. "Perhaps you should lie down," continued Elizabeth softly. "I am sure Lady Rose has a room upstairs for you."

"I want to go home," said Diana quietly. "I have had enough of this. This place, these people…" she inhaled sharply. "Please, call the carriage. I cannot stand it here any longer."

Elizabeth did not know what had happened in the hour or so after dinner that they had been separated to make Diana suddenly want to leave, but she did not question her. A footman indicated that their carriage was on its way to the door, and Diana discreetly managed to untangle herself from Rose without drawing excessive attention to herself in the process. Just as both women fought their way through the crowd – all of whom were now much more interested in discussing what had happened rather than asking how Diana was – Diana felt a hand at her sleeve, and forced herself to stop, ready to say another goodbye. The person who had stopped her, however, was the last person she had expected to do so.

"Aunt Ellen?" Diana frowned. She was tired, still a little dizzy, and in no mood to falsify civility. Lady Ellen hovered in the doorway as the two younger women made to step out, and the look in her eyes was familiar to Diana, though she had not seen it for many months: it was concern.

"Are you alright?" asked Lady Ellen. She was frowning, and the hand that rested on Diana's arm was gentle, warm, and comforting. Diana blinked, and stared down at it, even as Elizabeth murmured behind her that the carriage had arrived. "Diana? What happened to you?"

Diana continued to stare at her hand, her head spinning in that uncomfortably familiar way that it had a few minutes ago, just before she had been forced to accept Mr. Arnold's arm to avoid crumpling to the floor. The room was too hot, the outside air too cold, and the house was stifling; stifling her breathing, her sense of self and purpose, and reminding her, again and again, that her husband was stuck in a war he did not even know if he wanted to fight anymore, while she was making small talk with overly-perfumed women and obnoxious men in a drawing-room much too gaudy for her tastes.

And now, Lady Ellen had suddenly decided that she cared whether Diana lived or died.

"I do not know," said Diana finally, her posture stiff and her voice cold. She removed her arm from the older woman's grip and allowed herself to be helped into the carriage, barely sparing a glance out the window as Elizabeth tucked a blanket around her and they began the journey back home.

* * *

 **Hello to all my lovely readers! Happy new year, and I hope 2020 is bringing all kinds of wonderful things your way. Thank you for sticking with the story as long as you have (and special shoutout to my guest reviewers, though I may not be able to reply to you individually I want you to know how much I appreciate even a one-line review, so thank you very much!). To my regular reviewers, you know I love you all and love taking you along on Richard and Diana's story. The chapters will be posted and this story will _not_ be abandoned, I assure you - I'm slow, but I will get it done! Keep sending me reviews and positive vibes, and I will see you with the next upload soon. Much love xx**


	9. Chapter 9

"You are saying there is _nothing_ wrong physically?" demanded Lady Alexandra Fitzwilliam.

"Nothing at all, my lady," said Dr. Burns. He bowed to her and returned to packing his case, while Sarah hovered in the background, her lips pursed. Lady Alexandra exchanged a look with the maid, who – for once – did not try to avoid eye contact. The emotion on her face was quite clear as she glared at Dr. Burns, and her ladyship made a mental note to ask her why exactly she seemed to detest the Harris family doctor so.

However, at the moment there were other things to consider. Lady Alexandra stood and blocked the door of the sitting-room, practically forcing the doctor to continue speaking to her as he tried to leave. "I do not understand how you can say there is nothing wrong with her, Dr. Burns. She fainted just last night and she has been pale and weak ever since."

"I – I – I understand that your ladyship is concerned," stammered Dr. Burns, clutching at his case nervously. "But I have told you my opinion on what is wrong, if anything; Diana is a strong girl, she will easily overcome this with some rest."

Lady Alexandra narrowed her eyes. "My daughter-in-law is _not_ an hysteric, Dr. Burns."

"Hysteria is quite common for Diana's age," insisted Dr. Burns in defence of his initial diagnosis. "Considering everything she has been through in the past few months –"

"Then why is it impacting her only now, and why in this way?" persisted Lady Alexandra. "Surely there should be signs other than this? What if it is something more serious?"

"I am afraid I have other patients to attend to, your ladyship," Dr. Burns looked as though he would rather be anywhere than Fitzwilliam House at that moment, so it was impossible to tell if he was being truthful or not. "I will come again, tomorrow, to ensure she is feeling better. Perhaps you ought to send for her mother, she will help calm her and reassure you also."

 _Or make her worse._ Smiling stiffly, Lady Alexandra stepped aside and allowed Dr. Burns to pass. "That won't be necessary; I will send for you if we need you. Sarah, escort the doctor out, please. Goodbye, Dr. Burns."

Sarah scurried past and indicated that the doctor should precede her out into the hall. Following them out, Lady Alexandra climbed the stairs to the first floor, where the door to Richard's bedroom – now Richard's _and_ Diana's – was slightly open. Tapping against the door lightly, she entered and smiled at the only occupant. "Hello, dear."

Diana rolled her eyes and tossed her book away. Sitting up in bed surrounded by pillows, a tray of tea, and a pile of books she had probably read a hundred times, she was the picture of health. And annoyance. "Well, mamma?"

"Dr. Burns seems to think you had a case of hysteria," said Lady Alexandra. She sat at the edge of Diana's bed and smoothed the sheets that covered her legs, fixing her daughter-in-law with a questioning look. "What do you say to that?"

"Dr. Burns is utterly useless," snorted Diana. "He tried to tell my mother I was hysterical years ago as well, it was only when he tried to prescribe opium that she refused, otherwise you know she takes his word as law."

"I do know that, yes," sighed Lady Alexandra. "I am simply not convinced by his word, no matter how many people say he is the best doctor in London. He was very dismissive as well, it was very off-putting."

"I am not convinced either," said Diana bluntly. "I know what it feels like to swoon because of an overheated room, mamma, and _that_ was not it. I do not get hysterical, no matter how big the crowd or how much wine I drink. Which was _not_ that much," she added sharply. "I would never embarrass myself or this family in public like that, you know this about me."

"I know you too well to doubt that, Diana, and I trust your opinion of your health more than I trust any doctor's," said Lady Alexandra reassuringly. "If you are not satisfied with what Dr. Burns has said, we will call another physician. Lady Spencer's doctor is a good man, he has attended her for years; I will send a note immediately, and ask if she can send him by tomorrow morning."

Diana nodded, her tense shoulders relaxing somewhat. "Thank you. I – I realise I may sound like I am being paranoid. I know I look and feel fine but I –"

"You may look and feel fine _now,_ but when you returned last night you were far from fine," said Lady Alexandra pointedly. "You could barely walk up the stairs, Diana, I almost asked Henry to carry you."

Diana smiled a little. "His arm sufficed, though. I just – I have never felt like that. It was…" she trailed off, slightly embarrassed at what was going through her mind.

"You were afraid, and you were confused," said Lady Alexandra gently. "My darling, there is no shame in admitting it. You are a strong woman; my Richard would not love you as he does if you were not," Diana smiled at the compliment, her cheeks turning pink sheepishly, "But even strong women need help when confronted with something they do not understand. We will get a second opinion tomorrow; Dr. Burns may complain to your mother if he wishes, but until you are satisfied I will have every doctor in London outside this door, I promise you."

"Thank you," Diana rested her hand on top of Lady Alexandra's, her eyes full of gratitude. "For everything, mamma."

Lady Alexandra shook her head. "You do not need to thank me, Diana."

"No, not just for all of this," she waved a hand around the room, littered with tokens of affection from the inhabitants of the house and any number of comforts to make her feel better. "I mean, thank you for believing me. My mother – that is to say, _people_ do not always believe me when I say something is wrong."

Lady Alexandra's eyes softened, and she leaned forward to kiss Diana's forehead gently. "I will always believe you, my dear," she murmured, squeezing her hand. "And it is not something you must ever thank me for, do you understand? It is simply what a mother does."

Diana smiled and nodded. Her eyes were dry, but bright, and she leaned back against her pillows when Lady Alexandra stood up, discreetly wiping her eyes.

"Well," she cleared her throat. "You are sure you wouldn't like me to write to your mother, ask her to come see you?" Diana shook her head wordlessly. "Very well. I'll send up some more beef tea for you, but you mustn't leave your bed until dinner. Promise me you will rest?"

"I promise," said Diana. Lady Alexandra kissed her forehead again and left the room, already calling for a maid.

As she walked out, Sarah slipped inside the open doorway and smiled at Diana. "This will be your third cup of beef tea since morning."

Diana wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I despise beef tea."

"It will help build up your strength."

"Which is why I have not complained to anyone except you," Diana sighed. "What did _you_ think of Dr. Burns today, Sarah?"

"Oh, what a horrid man!" Sarah scowled and began to flit about the room. Part of what made Sarah an excellent maid was that she cleaned when she was nervous; apparently, the rule seemed to apply to being annoyed as well. "I wanted to give him a piece of my mind so many times, mum, the nerve of him! Refusing to examine you properly beyond a cursory glance and a few questions, and then going down and telling her ladyship you were an hysteric! Why, the cheek!"

"I agree it was an odd examination, to be sure," said Diana. She tried not to be too amused by Sarah's indignation on her behalf. "But did he seem to act odd to you at all?"

"Odd?" Sarah frowned and turned back, arms full of clothes that she had just refolded, despite folding them herself just that morning. "What do you mean, mum?"

"He could barely speak, Sarah," said Diana slowly. "I know people get nervous around the Fitzwilliams and the Darcys, they are very fine families after all, but he could barely look me in the eye. Did you notice? I never liked him much, to be sure, but he has known me since we first came to town and he has _never_ acted that way. Why, I was married to an earl and he never so much as tripped over his own words in front of Charles!"

"Well, he _was_ nervous," agreed Sarah. "But what of it, mum? A doctor should be able to do his job regardless."

"Exactly!" Diana frowned. "A doctor _should_ be able to do his job despite his nerves, but Burns was nervous the moment he entered my chamber. It is as if he _knew_ what he was about to say would be something that no one in the house would take seriously, and he was anticipating trouble."

"I think you are reading too much into his behaviour, mum," Sarah shook her head. "He was nervous, to be sure, and his exam of you was not particularly useful, even I could see that, but I doubt he had planned it that way. Why would he do that?"

"I suppose it is all a little silly," Diana's shoulders slumped. "I just don't understand it. Do _you_ think I am being paranoid?"

"You know what I think," finding nothing else to put away, Sarah picked up some sewing and sat down in the chair by Diana's bed, giving her a pointed look. "You have been anxious before this, mum."

Diana shook her head. "No, this was different, Sarah. It wasn't one of those panic attacks."

"You said you saw Lady Ellen there."

"It is not as if simply _seeing_ her would make me faint," insisted Diana. "And it did not feel the same!"

"Perhaps it was a mild version of it," suggested Sarah. "I still think you ought to tell her ladyship, mum."

"Tell her what? That after making her worry for a night and a day, I think I may be ill because of her _sister?"_ Diana rolled her eyes. "Really, Sarah?"

"You have no other explanation, mum, and you have reacted to her presence before, have you not?"

"No, I just think –"

"Well, we mustn't argue on it," as if suddenly realising Diana was ill, _and_ her employer, Sarah backtracked and returned to her sewing, deftly changing the subject. "We can't have you getting ill, mum, not now. Miss Darcy's ball is only a few weeks away, and Mrs. Darcy needs your help to plan everything, not to mention Master Henry and Miss Margaret need so much of your attention. And what would the Major General think, if the next time you wrote to him it is to say you are unwell? It is best to stay on the safe side, mum. And that means, drinking beef tea."

Knowing she was defeated, and suddenly feeling too tired to argue, Diana laughed. "You are enjoying this too much, Sarah."

"Not at all," said Sarah innocently. The mischief in her eyes was so unlike her, and yet so refreshing, that Diana did not have the heart to rebuke her and ended up smiling despite herself.

Eager to move on from her illness – which she herself could not be sure even existed – Diana mentally ran through the list of things she often did in the day. "Oh, did you check on the children for me?"

"Master Henry is busy making you a drawing that you may help him paint when you feel better, and Miss Margaret has been driving Nurse wild with her crawling all about the nursery. There was also a note from Mrs. Darcy saying she would call on you, but I suspect Lady Alexandra told her to come tomorrow instead, after the new doctor has been."

Diana rolled her eyes. "When did I become a child again, Sarah?"

"You were not a child for nearly long enough, mum," Sarah smiled at her sadly. "Perhaps this is what you needed after all. I can bring your drawing things, if you feel like doing something. Shall I fetch them?"

"No," Diana sighed. "Just…" she trailed off and adjusted the pillows behind her head, handing Sarah her book. "Would you read me something? I want to close my eyes for a while."

Sarah murmured her agreement and accepted the book, flipping to the page Diana had last read. Her voice was calm, soft, and familiar; Diana found herself falling asleep before Sarah had even turned the page.

 **{–}**

By the time Diana woke up from her mid-afternoon doze, Sarah was setting out her clothes for dinner and a maid was knocking on the door to say Mrs. Fitzwilliam's mother was here, and would she like her to be sent upstairs or was she going to come down to the drawing-room and sit with her?

"I asked them not to tell her," muttered Diana bitterly, when Sarah gave her the message. Tired of lying in bed, however, she agreed to get up and change, refusing to get her hair made despite Sarah's gentle reminder that her mother would not approve. "She should not have come without being invited, then," shot back Diana. Changing into a fresh dress and pinning her hair away from her face was all she would consent to; throwing on an old shawl, she descended the stairs and walked into the drawing-room. Mina Harris was seated on the divan, with Lady Alexandra opposite her and Lord Fitzwilliam, perusing some letters, seated across the room.

"You needn't have come, mother," were the first words Diana said as her mother stood up to greet her. "I am fine – I asked her ladyship not to worry you needlessly."

"I did not write to her," said Lady Alexandra immediately, almost defensively.

"Dr. Burns came to call on me and informed me you were unwell," said Mina, clasping Diana's hands and not letting go despite the fact that Diana was trying to move away and sit by the earl. "You really should have called me, Diana. How do you feel now?"

"I am surprised the doctor told you I was unwell, considering he told us there was nothing to worry about," said Diana. She gave up trying to escape her mother's hold and sat in the chair next to her, finally succeeding in pulling her hands away. Lord Fitzwilliam left his letters to get up and stoke the fire, winking at Diana when she threw him a grateful look. She twisted the tassels at the ends of her shawl through her fingers. "Why would Dr. Burns call on you if he insisted there was nothing wrong with me, mother?"

"I am your mother," sniffed Mina. "He clearly thought I had a right to know my only child was unwell."

"But he said I _wasn't_ unwell," Diana narrowed her eyes. "What exactly did he tell _you?"_

Mina took her time answering; sipping her tea and replacing the cup in the saucer, she finally met Diana's gaze evenly. "He did not call on me simply to tell me of his visit to you. It was a social call. I have known Dr. Burns for many years, and he wanted to ask after my health."

"A lovely coincidence, making a social call on the same day that he sees me after almost two years," muttered Diana.

"You are acting like a petulant child; there is no need to behave this way," snapped Mina, and her tone was so different from the honeyed words she had been saying ever since she had arrived in London that Diana almost flinched. _Almost,_ because even though her tone was a change, it was not new. _This_ was how Mina had always spoken to her, and Diana almost sighed in relief at the brief return to normalcy. This version of her mother she knew how to handle, after all.

"I am a married woman, mother," she said evenly. "I do _not_ need your approval when it comes to my behaviour or anything else about my person."

"You never did take kindly to criticism," said Mina, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. "You have convinced yourself that you are unwell and refuse to listen to reason. Perhaps that is why you behaved in that atrocious way with poor Dr. Burns, he was so shaken when he came to see me. I had to apologise for your behaviour, _again."_

Diana felt her temper flare up. "I did _not –"_

"I think that is quite enough," interrupted the earl. It was the first time anyone other than the mother-daughter duo had spoken since they had all sat down, and Diana bit her tongue, looking away from her mother's infuriatingly calm face to the floor. Lord Fitzwilliam had not spoken loudly, but he had not needed to. "We have asked another doctor to come and see Diana tomorrow morning, Mina. Rest assured, if something is the matter we will inform you of it immediately. We do not think Diana is exaggerating when she says she feels unwell; I almost had to carry her up the stairs last night myself. It is better to know for sure if something is the matter, and if not we can celebrate once we do know. Now," he turned to his wife expectantly. "More tea?"

Lady Alexandra nodded and rang the bell, her mouth in the thinnest line Diana had ever seen. A footman brought in more tea and a tray of other refreshments, along with a steaming cup of beef tea that Diana knew was for her. She took it without complaint and sipped on it without registering its taste, barely paying attention to the conversation Lady Alexandra had managed to engage Mina in.

It was typical of her mother to do this, of course. _Why_ had she come, after all, if not to criticise Diana as if she were an infant who did not know how to behave in polite company? It was infuriating that Mina still thought she could do that to her; this was her _home_ now, and Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam had shown more concern for her in the one day she had been ill than she could _ever_ remember her mother showing her all through her childhood illnesses. And to insinuate that she was paranoid, after she had spent the whole day and night debating with herself, questioning herself… Diana's eyes stung with tears as she remembered how she had spent the previous night, wrapped up in a ball in the middle of her too-large bed, hugging Richard's pillow and staring at the last two letters he had written her with tears in her eyes. At that moment, she had wanted nothing more than for him to wrap his arms around her and assure her that she was not paranoid, or crazy, and that everything would be fine. It was just so unfair: other women's husbands took the burden off them, after all, why couldn't hers?

Sniffling, Diana discreetly wiped her eyes with her sleeve and made to take another sip of tea, only to realise the cup was empty, but she was still holding it. Blinking, she put it back onto the tray and glanced up, resigning herself to joining the conversation. Lady Alexandra and Mina were discussing Georgiana's coming-out ball, and just as she was bracing herself to interject, she realised that her father-in-law was watching her over his papers.

Diana tried to smile at him, but he did not smile back. Tossing his papers down onto the table next to him, he stood up and cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon, ladies, but I have just remembered I have some accounts to look over, and I must borrow Diana for a while. We won't be too long," he added, when Mina's eyebrows shot up. "You know her arithmetic is much better than mine, Mina, and my eyes aren't what they used to be."

"Of course, I know her numbers were always very good," said Mina. "I confess, I did not know she was helping you with your accounts."

"Only at my insistence, of course, when she is not too busy doing other things," the earl smiled and offered Diana his arm, which she accepted gratefully. "Say goodbye before you leave, won't you? Come," he patted Diana's hand and led her out of the room before she had a chance to say her own goodbyes.

Diana did not try to hide the quiet sigh pf relief that left her lips as soon as the drawing-room door shut behind them, and Lord Fitzwilliam pretended not to notice. His study was across the hall, and there was already a fire burning in the hearth. Instead of leading Diana to sit opposite his desk as he usually did when they sorted accounts, however, the earl steered her towards the fire and sat her down in the plush armchair he often read in, and sat down in the matching one opposite her.

Diana raised her eyebrows. "I thought we were doing accounts."

Lord Fitzwilliam chuckled. "It was the only excuse I could come up with that would get us out of that room without argument. Your mother is quite something, after all."

Despite herself, Diana's lips twitched. It was impossible _not_ to smile when her father-in-law tried to make her laugh. _"Something_ is a nice way to put it."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Well, it is the nicest thing you will hear me say for the next few minutes. I am sure you have realised that what I have to say to you is rather important, and it cannot wait."

"It did cross my mind, yes."

Lord Fitzwilliam smiled, and then sighed. "I am afraid we are long overdue a conversation, Diana. I know Richard has spoken to you about this family, and what it means to be in it. You know what happened to Georgiana when she was young –" Diana winced, and the earl looked sympathetic, "– and you know what I said to Ellen, when she made her displeasure at your match known in such a public way. You also know my sister Catherine has been less than civil when it comes to Mrs. Darcy marriage and her inclusion into his family. We are peers of the realm, Diana, and there is a certain standard of conduct I expect from all members of my family. _All_ members, no matter how close or distant. Do you see what I mean?"

Diana felt her veins turn to ice at the implication behind his words. _A certain standard of conduct_ that she had no doubt gone against with her silly insistence that she was unwell, her argument with her mother, her behaviour with the doctor… fidgeting in her seat, Diana suddenly felt like the walls were closing in on her, constricting her breathing. _Of_ _course_ something she had said or done would have caused offense; just because Lady Alexandra was willing to put up with her demands, did not mean Lord Fitzwilliam would as well.

"I – I did not mean to cause any embarrassment," she said shakily. "I – I just thought –"

"Embarrassment?" Lord Fitzwilliam frowned. "No, child, you misunderstand me. You are a good girl, and a _very_ good daughter-in-law. You have never disappointed my expectations in _that_ regard. I never had much faith in Richard's choice, so I can only thank the Lord he had the sense to choose someone like you. _That_ is not what I mean, I must be clear on that."

Diana let out the breath she had been holding in and leaned back into the armchair, trying to calm her racing heartbeat without giving away just how worried she had been for a few seconds. She felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders; for a few terrifying moments, she had considered the possibility that her father-in-law agreed with her mother, and _then_ it would be difficult to argue with Sarah about not having any more panic attacks. "I understand. So this is not about…?" she trailed off suggestively.

"Your conduct with your mother just now? Not in the way you think," the earl shook his head. "I have never had any complaints about your behaviour, my dear. And I must apologise if I worried you; Alexandra and I thought it was enough that Richard had assured you of our support, no matter what you chose to do or say or how you preferred to act, but I realise now I have been remiss."

"It isn't your fault that I overreact at everything," Diana smiled wanly. Despite her father-in-law's reassuring tone and words, she still felt rather unsteady.

Almost as if he knew what she was feeling, the earl sighed and stood up, moving towards the cart in the corner, where an array of bottles and decanters were arranged. Diana heard him pour something out and when he handed her a glass, she took it automatically. A discreet sniff revealed that it was merely water; she smiled and took a sip, reassuring him without words that she was now fine.

Satisfied, Lord Fitzwilliam sat down and began to speak again. "When I speak of our family, Diana, I mean the things you should know _you_ are entitled to as a member of this family. We are all very close; you know this, you have been an honorary member since before your marriage," Diana smiled and nodded, and Lord Fitzwilliam smiled back. "As such, I never pretended to like the way your mother behaves with you, and unlike your mamma I did not keep it a secret. However, Alexandra said it was unbecoming of me to tell a woman how to mother her own child, so I held my tongue. You were the daughter of my best friend, and I had a claim on you only so far as your mother allowed it, and as much as your own affections permitted. I will say it to you now, though; you are my best friend's daughter, my son's wife, and as good as any daughter I could have had myself. We may be peers of the realm and we may have a reputation to uphold, but I do not tolerate people disrespecting members of my family. I have seen that your mother's company seems to make you nothing but miserable, and I cannot allow that. If I was willing to cut off all ties with my sister-in-law whom I love dearly for disrespecting you so openly, you can be sure I will have no qualms keeping Mina away from this house, if it will help ease your mind. Do you understand, my dear?"

Diana's wide eyes had stared unblinkingly at Lord Fitzwilliam during his speech, and her lids did not close even when he was done speaking. She gaped at the older man, opening and closing her mouth as if she were a fish; if the earl found her expression amusing, he did not laugh. He continued to watch her seriously as she digested his words, blinked rapidly and then turned her eyes to the floor. Her hands, hitherto frozen in place, finally moving to fiddle with the engagement ring Richard had given her not long ago. It was a nervous habit she had recently acquired, yet it seemed like a lifetime had passed since the day he had given her the ring, officially offering to include her in his family. _This family,_ that against all odds and norms seemed determined to love her and support her, no matter what she said or did.

"Diana?" Lord Fitzwilliam's voice was gentle. "Do you understand what I am saying?"

Still unable to formulate words, Diana settled for nodding. _Yes,_ she understood. Publicly cutting ties with one's family was a difficult, messy task that often brought up old grievances that were best left forgotten. Diana had been horrified when Richard had told her that his father had threatened to ostracise Lady Ellen Carmichael, andthe idea that he would subject his best friend's widow, his daughter-in-law's mother, to the same fate was equally unfathomable. The Fitzwilliams were almost clannish in their ties to friends and family; it was why they were so close with the Darcys, why the Davenports always had a standing invitation to both Matlock and Fitzwilliam House, and it was also why Diana had even met them in the first place. She had not seen her father's and Lord Fitzwilliam's friendship first-hand, but she knew enough about it to know that they had been practically inseparable as young men, remaining close until her father had died.

"Well then, I suppose that's that." Lord Fitzwilliam cleared his throat, and the sound finally jerked Diana out of her stupor. She watched the earl adjust his sleeves and smooth out invisible wrinkles in his vest; she had seen Lady Alexandra do something similar with her skirts on more than one occasion, and the familiar action made her smile. He did not notice and stood up, offering her his hand. "We should return, I am afraid; your mamma will not appreciate my taking you away like this, accounts or no accounts. And we will keep this talk just between us," he added, pressing her hand when she accepted his proffered one. "What do you say to that?"

There were so many things to say, but there would never be a time or place suitable enough to say them, Diana knew that. She merely nodded again and stood up, dabbing her sleeve under her eyes to make sure there were no tear-tracks running down her cheeks. Lord Fitzwilliam clicked his tongue in disapproval at her actions and offered her his handkerchief, which she accepted with another smile. Having made sure there was no evidence of their emotional conversation left on her face, Diana took a deep breath and stopped her father-in-law before he could begin to lead her out of the room. When he looked at her expectantly, she did something she had never done before; abandoning the inherent shyness she had always possessed with him, Diana threw her arms around his waist and hugged him with all her might.

She did not know whether he had laughed or grunted at her impromptu embrace, though she could tell that her reaction had surprised him. Gingerly, he patted the top of her head in response, clearly at a loss as to how he should respond. Diana was a loving daughter-in-law, and they often sat and talked amicably or read together in companionable silence, but she was rarely so demonstrative, and the earl was not an openly affectionate man as a rule. The fact that he had not tried to slip out of her embrace was a sign that, awkward as he was, he seemed to understand what she was trying to say. Squeezing her eyes shut and banishing her tears, Diana let Lord Fitzwilliam go and stepped back, laughing quietly at his bemused expression.

"Pardon me," she used the handkerchief he had not taken back to dab at her eyes again and folded it up neatly before returning it to his hands. "I have been told you and mamma do not take kindly to gratitude from family members, and I did not know how else to thank you."

Eyes twinkling, Lord Fitzwilliam rested a hand on her shoulder. "Well, your mamma is right. Children do not thank their parents, and we have had two quite spoilt ones, so we are not used to gratitude of this kind anyway."

"Well, I think they are the luckiest men in the world," smiled Diana. Slipping her arm through his, she allowed him to lead her back into the drawing-room.

"Perhaps," admitted the earl. "Of course, we as parents are not as selfless as you may think. Gratitude can manifest itself in different ways, you know."

Diana laughed. "How so?"

Lord Fitzwilliam shook his head. "Ah, now that is a secret."

"You must tell me now that you have mentioned it!" persisted Diana.

"Very well," Lord Fitzwilliam sighed exaggeratedly, and the great effort he seemed to be putting in simply to entertain Diana warmed her heart. They paused in the hall, and he made a show of looking around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers before speaking, his tone conspiratorial. "Ordinarily, I would ask for something material," he told her seriously. "That always works on Henry, you see. Richard was more difficult, but often the promise of good behaviour was as far as we were going to get with him, and that had to suffice. However, in your case I believe I have just the thing."

"Do you?" Diana raised her eyebrows. "And what is it that I can do?"

"Your greatest asset is your brain, my dear," Lord Fitzwilliam tapped the side of her head. "I think sorting through the past three months of accounts for me should do the trick."

 _"_ _Three months?!"_ Diana's eyes widened. "You mean the Christmas period? All that buying and selling, rents over the new year, not to mention the repairs to the stables…" she trailed off when she saw that her father-in-law was grinning mischievously. "I see. Very well then, it is a promise. And would that suffice as a thank you?"

"It is an excellent start," he assured her. The drawing-room door was shut when they arrived, and a footman suddenly appeared to open it for them. "Ready?" asked Lord Fitzwilliam, squeezing her hand.

Diana smiled, suddenly feeling lighter than she had all day. "Yes."

* * *

 **Hello again, friends! Thank you all for your wonderful reviews last chapter, and the chapter before - I seem to get double the number of reviews every time I add in a letter, and if I was a commercially-minded person I would try to alter my writing style to pander to your wants but alas, the letters come when I am in a particularly sappy mood and only then! I hope you're all enjoying the story, the pace may be slowing down but the action is not so I'm glad everyone is still enthusiastic and eager to see what happens next. Let me know what you thought of this chapter; I realised I fleshed out a character I hadn't really thought about before this, and I really enjoyed it! Let me know if you like my long monologue-ish interludes, or if you just want me to hurry up and reunite Richard and Diana already!**

 **As always, stay tuned for more (because there _will_ be more, no matter how long it takes!) and thank you for your patience. Much love xx**


	10. Chapter 10

_"There!" Richard dropped the last armful of clothes on the bed with a grunt and surveyed the room critically. "Not bad, I suppose."_

 _"We did not have to move," said Diana. She smiled at him from across the room. "This was your idea."_

 _"We could not stay in that room forever, it was much too small."_

 _"I was perfectly happy in there."_

 _"It was time for a change," Richard shook his head and picked up the fabric swatches Diana had shown him earlier. "Although, do we really need new curtains?"_

 _"New curtains, new carpets, new mirrors, and that is just the beginning," Diana rolled her eyes. "Did you think we could simply pack up and move to a completely different wing of the house overnight with no planning?"_

 _"We had plenty of time to plan! We just did not do it correctly," Richard shrugged, and then looked at Diana worriedly. "Do you need to sit down? Should I send for Sarah?"_

 _Diana frowned. "What in the world for? I have barely done anything, you did all the moving yourself."_

 _"Yes, but in your condition you should not be standing for so long," dropping the fabric back onto the pile of dresses on the bed, Richard crossed the room until he was standing in front of his wife. Smiling, he twirled a lock of her hair around his finger – her hair was loose and had been brushed away neatly, but a few tendrils had escaped to frame her face. He had been itching to play with her hair all day._

 _"My condition?" Diana rolled her eyes. "I am not an invalid, Richard."_

 _"Of course, my love. But you should put your feet up," looking around the room again, Richard frowned. "I am sure I told John to make sure the furniture was sent up. At least your desk is here, I suppose."_

 _"I am not putting my feet on my desk."_

 _"As you wish, love," Richard sighed, and then suddenly smiled. Diana looked at him curiously. He kissed her forehead. "I want to show you the rest of the wing. The nursery is set up, even if our room isn't."_

 _Diana's lips twitched. "Richard Fitzwilliam, you are entirely too excited about this."_

 _"And why not?" he demanded. "A man has a right to be excited about the birth of his child."_

 _"Not when it is your_ third _child!" Diana laughed. "Are you truly_ that _excited to see your wife gain an extortionate amount of weight again?"_

 _"Ecstatic."_

 _"And the mood swings?"_

 _"You are even more beautiful when you are angry."_

 _"My swollen ankles?"_

 _"I will rub your feet every night and carry you up the stairs."_

 _Diana laughed again and rested a hand against his cheek, her eyes twinkling. "I married a wise man."_

 _"You have made me a wise man, my darling," Richard removed her hand from his cheek so he could kiss her palm softly. "I love you, Diana."_

 _"I love you too, Richard," Diana giggled as he tugged on her hair playfully. "What else is there to do today?"_

 _"Well, I think you need to wake up now," he said matter-of-factly._

 _Diana frowned. "What did you just say?"_

 _"Wake up," his voice changed, and it sounded as though it was coming from far away, and not from right next to her. Diana's hands tightened around the front of his shirt. "There's someone here to see you."_

 _She shook her head. "I don't understand what –"_

 _"Diana?"_

"Diana?"

Diana's eyes flew open and made contact with her mother-in-law's gaze, who was looking at her worriedly. Next to her, Little Henry was peering at his aunt curiously, his chin resting on her bed. Realising that she was still in bed and – if the light streaming in from her open window was any indication – that it was clearly late in the day, Diana mumbled an apology and attempted to sit up. However, Lady Alexandra rested a hand on her shoulder gently, her smile reassuring.

"It is not as late as you may think," she said, knowing Diana's fears before she spoke them. "Sarah only brought up your tea a few minutes ago. Henry was most anxious to see you first thing in the morning, and I thought it best I helped him wake you up."

"Of course," still a little disoriented from her dream, Diana forced herself to sit up in bed and patted the newly-empty space next to her, smiling as Little Henry eagerly climbed up to join her. "I am sorry I did not see you yesterday, my darling," she said, kissing the top of his head. "Did you have a nice day with Miss Williams?"

Little Henry smiled toothily and nodded, launching into a retelling of his day that Diana barely listened to. If Lady Alexandra noticed her unsettled state that morning, she did not comment on it; as her grandson chattered on, she made Diana a cup of tea and handed it to her, sitting down at the edge of her bed and listening to the young boy's adventures with a level of attention that was clearly lacking in his primary audience. Though Diana smiled and nodded, her eyes were glassy and her tea remained in her hands, almost as though she had forgotten about it. When Little Henry was finally tired of talking, she merely kissed the top of his head again and rested her cheek on his curls, saying nothing.

"I think we should let your aunt have some tea and get ready for the day, Henry," said Lady Alexandra finally. The silence had gone on for too long; it troubled her. "Run along and tell Miss Williams she may start your lessons after breakfast."

Little Henry did not argue – he seldom did, when it was his grandmother giving instructions – and scampered off. When the door closed behind him, Lady Alexandra leaned over to rest her palm against Diana's forehead. It was cold.

"I'm not unwell," said Diana quietly. She smiled at Lady Alexandra's look of concern. "I was dreaming and you startled me, that's all."

"Was it a good dream?"

"I suppose," Diana shrugged, clearly unwilling to discuss the matter further. On any other day, Lady Alexandra would have pressed the issue. However, considering the circumstances, she held her tongue.

"Well, have some breakfast and see if you are up to coming downstairs today, my dear. I am waiting for a note from Lady Spencer to see if her physician is available today, so we may have some answers soon. Would you like me to send in your maid?"

"Yes, please," Diana smiled in gratitude and sipped her tea, her eyes resting on the newspaper that lay folded neatly next to her breakfast. Lady Alexandra bit her lip as her daughter-in-law opened it. Pretending to straighten the drapes – even though both women knew what she was waiting for – Lady Alexandra hovered by the bed as Diana flipped through the newspaper carefully. There was only one page they were concerned with, and it was the one Diana checked first thing every morning. As her eyes scanned the list of names of those who had fallen or were missing on the front, Lady Alexandra held her breath. When Diana closed her eyes for a brief moment and let out a sigh of relief, Lady Alexandra cleared her throat and excused herself. No words were spoken, because they were unnecessary.

Downstairs, a footman was waiting by the stairs with a note on a tray; recognising the handwriting, Lady Alexandra accepted it and sought out her husband in the library. He was reading a book, clearly at leisure, and so she did not feel badly about intruding on his time.

"Good morning," he smiled pleasantly when she entered the room. "To what do I owe this pleasure, my dear? You are usually busy preparing for callers at this time."

"That is a wonderfully polite way to say you resent my socialising, Henry," Lady Alexandra smiled and sat down in the chair her husband pulled out for her. He chuckled and squeezed her shoulder, returning to the seat he had previously occupied opposite hers. "You need not sound so smug; I will have callers today, and you will be expected to greet them as well."

"Your wish is my command, my dear," Lord Fitzwilliam continued to smile indulgently. "And is that note in your hands an invitation to a ball I will no doubt complain about at a later date?"

"No," Lady Alexandra's smile fell. "It is from Lady Spencer."

"Ah," Lord Fitzwilliam sighed quietly and put his book aside, carefully marking the page he was on. Rarely did husband and wife intervene in each other's routines on such a busy day of the week, so when his wife had sought him out in the middle of the morning in his library simply to sit with him, he realized he should have known there was something on her mind. "Would you read it out to me?"

His wife nodded and quickly broke the seal on the letter. It was short.

 _My dear Alexandra,_

 _I have received your note and wish your charming daughter-in-law the best of health. I would send you my physician in a heartbeat but he is away this month visiting his daughter. I have been seeing a new doctor, a young man who came highly recommended from Dr. Richardson, and have sent a note asking him to visit you at his earliest convenience. His name is Lennox and he is only recently qualified, but he is a most capable physician and I have no doubt he will have a very comfortable future in town. I will call on you tomorrow to ask after Diana's health._

 _LADY EMILY SPENCER_

"Well, that is good news," Lord Fitzwilliam nodded approvingly. "We will have a doctor coming after all, and if Lady Spencer recommends him we can be assured he is good."

Lady Alexandra did not answer; instead, she stood up and began to pace across the floor, wringing her hands anxiously. Lord Fitzwilliam leaned back in his seat. He knew his wife well, and he knew what was coming; she was worried about their daughter-in-law, and until there was a solution to her worries placed in front of her, she would not be at ease.

He spoke again, interrupting her pacing. "Alexandra, my dear, you must tell me what is on your mind."

She sighed. "You do not think she is seriously ill, Henry, do you?"

Lord Fitzwilliam frowned. "I do think there is something the matter with Diana, but nothing to be overtly concerned about. Why do you ask that?"

"I keep thinking about Richard," Lady Alexandra bit her lip. "He left her in our care, Henry. If he comes back and something is the matter with her…"

"There is nothing the matter with her, my dear. Her husband has gone to war; she is bound to have some physical manifestation of her worry," said Lord Fitzwilliam. "Come now, Alexandra, you know this better than most: you stayed in bed for nigh on a month when Richard left the first time."

"Precisely!" Lady Alexandra nodded vigorously. "I stayed in bed and was a terrible mess, I refused to write him letters and Darcy had to come and insist I pull myself together, but Diana has been the opposite. She is throwing herself into any and every activity that comes her way!"

"Everyone has their own way of dealing with these things. She needs the distractions."

"I fear those distractions are not letting her _feel,_ Henry."

"She is not grieving for a dead husband," said Lord Fitzwilliam sharply, and Lady Alexandra winced; not at his tone, but at his words. "Richard is fine; he _will_ be fine. We only just received a letter from him, and there was no sign of his name or anyone from his regiment's name on the list of those missing today. You must not worry yourself, and her, needlessly. The doctor will come and prescribe some medicines, we will ask Cook to keep making the beef tea, and she will cheer up once the season begins."

"I hope you are right," Lady Alexandra said quietly. "I just wish he hadn't left, Henry."

Sighing, Lord Fitzwilliam left the comfort of his favourite chair and drew his wife into his arms. She settled against his chest comfortably, but her shoulders remained tense and he was suddenly reminded of how long it had been since he had heard her laugh – since Richard had broken the news of his departure, she had only seemed truly happy once, and that had been at his wedding.

"We will not lose him, Alexandra," he said quietly. His voice was unwavering and firm; there was the seal of a promise in it that they were both too afraid to clearly speak, but nevertheless it was there. "I will not let you bury your son."

Lady Alexandra did not respond – as much as she trusted her husband, there were things even she was unsure he could do.

And bringing Richard home safe was something that was out of everybody's hands, even his own.

 **{–}**

"Mrs. Hart, Miss Hart, and Dr. Lennox."

Diana looked up from her book and raised her eyebrows, getting to her feet along with Lady Alexandra. The footman bowed and opened the door, allowing Cecelia Hart to flit into the room, already undoing the ribbon that held her hat on her head and heading straight for Diana with worry in her eyes. Mary Hart and Dr. Lennox followed her in, both looking concerned as well but still maintaining their decorum and greeting Lady Alexandra first; Cecelia had barely looked at her ladyship and was clasping Diana's hands, talking a mile a minute.

"My dear, have you met my mother-in-law, Richard's mother?" Diana cut into her enquiries after her health smoothly and indicated Lady Alexandra, whose expression was impossible to decipher. "Mamma, this is Mrs. Hart, Colonel Hart's wife, you remember him, do you not? And this is his sister, Miss Mary; and Dr. Stanley Lennox, of course. How are you all?" she pressed their hands and indicated that they should sit. "Tea?"

"Oh, I do apologise for my behaviour, my lady," said Cecelia, sitting down opposite them as indicated. Lady Alexandra sat down wordlessly as well, and Diana fiddled with her handkerchief as Mary Hart looked at her in sympathy, and Dr. Lennox stared at the floor determinedly. "I only heard about what happened this morning, and I just had to come and see how Diana was feeling."

Diana closed her eyes briefly and let out a sharp exhale. "Who told you, Cecelia?"

"Stanley did, of course," Cecelia gave her an odd look. "You did not think you could send for him and have him keep it a secret from me, did you? As if I would allow it!"

"To be clear, Cecelia," cut in Dr. Lennox quietly. "I did not _tell_ you Mrs. Fitzwilliam was unwell. You read the note from Lady Spencer over my shoulder, and insisted on joining me. I apologise profusely," he added, looking at Diana but also at Lady Alexandra. "I am not in the habit of bringing along friends when I come to see a patient, but Cecelia was most persistent and said you would not mind."

"I cannot mind your concern, Cecelia, but I must admit I feel much better this afternoon than I did yesterday," said Diana. She pressed Cecelia's hand, and finally chanced a look at her mother-in-law; surprisingly, Lady Alexandra did not look too disapproving. Instead, she looked almost… pleased. "I almost hope I dragged you here unnecessarily, Dr. Lennox, though I did not know you were Lady Spencer's doctor. Didn't you say you worked with Dr. Burns?"

"Ah, yes," suddenly awkward – again – Dr. Lennox fixed his eyes onto the ground. "Dr. Burns is a very respectable man, of course, and I –"

"We do not care much for Dr. Burns' opinion in this house, Dr. Lennox," said Lady Alexandra, and her sudden interruption made Diana's eyebrows shoot up. "He visited only yesterday and called my daughter-in-law an hysteric. I do not take kindly to medical men who try to find the easy way out of diagnosing."

"Of course, my lady," Dr. Lennox nodded, and when he looked up at Lady Alexandra his gaze was firm. "For what it may be worth, I do not think Mrs. Fitzwilliam has the temperament of someone prone to hysteria; I am sure Dr. Burns had his reasons, but we have disagreed many times, which is why I no longer serve as his apprentice. Dr. Richardson was kind enough to take me on so close to the season, and I am sure you will find Lady Spencer has been satisfied with my attending her so far."

"She speaks very highly of you," said Lady Alexandra. The haughtiness Diana knew she often adopted with people she did not trust was gone, and her ladyship seemed to adopt her usual pleasant persona remarkably fast. "This visit is unorthodox…" she trailed off, her eyes resting on Mary and Cecelia pointedly, but she still did not sound bothered. "… nevertheless, this is an unorthodox case. My dear," she turned to Diana. "If you would go up, Sarah is waiting for you. I will accompany the doctor myself in a few minutes."

Diana hid her smile behind her hand and nodded, winking at Cecelia and Mary on her way out of the room. Mary smiled back, but Cecelia was looking at Lady Alexandra with admiration; personally, Diana was sure the two would be fast friends by the end of the visit.

Upstairs, Sarah was pacing across the floor of the bedroom. She narrowed her eyes when Diana told her a new doctor was coming up and folded her arms across her chest, demanding to know who it was. Diana was slightly taken-aback by her usually mild-mannered maid's aggressive tone, but soon realised why it was so.

"You are worried," she noted, sinking down onto the edge of the bed.

Sarah scowled and adjusted the curtains with a an unnecessarily sharp tug. "Not at all. There is nothing wrong with you."

"You and I both know something _is_ wrong, Sarah. And Dr. Lennox isn't like Dr. Burns – I don't even think he likes him very much."

"He used to work for him," sill scowling, Sarah leaned against the edge of the bed and folded her arms across her chest. "Surely there is some other physician in London we could have summoned?"

"I'm sure Dr. Lennox is a very good physician."

"What if –"

Sarah was interrupted by a knock at the door, and Lady Alexandra opened it to peer inside, give Diana a reassuring look and allow Dr. Lennox to enter. Diana smiled at him, and he attempted to smile back, but his eyes rested on Sarah's face, which was still contorted into a scowl, and he suddenly seemed hesitant.

"This is Sarah, my maid," said Diana, by way of introduction. "You must excuse her, Dr. Lennox. She is very protective, and we unfortunately have a mutual acquaintance she is not too fond of."

"Ah," Dr. Lennox's smile softened. "Well, I can assure you, miss, I am a very different kind of doctor to the ones you may be used to. Mrs. Fitzwilliam, if I may begin?"

"Please," Diana indicated for him to sit in the chair by her bed, and she saw that Sarah did not move from her position. Her maid's protective stature made her want to giggle.

"I have a few questions, and then I will do a physical exam. Since I do not have your medical history, this may take a while," explained Dr. Lennox. He put his medical bag on the ground and fished out a notebook and pencil from inside it, flipping it open to a blank page. "If you could start with your age…"

Diana answered, and continued to answer him for over half an hour. Sarah got tired of standing and eventually sat down at the edge of the bed, but her expression never wavered. Diana struggled to remember childhood illnesses and injuries, and was flippant when he tried to push her on the kinds of panic attacks she had had before Richard's departure; often Sarah had to interject to supply information. Eventually, he put his notebook and down stood, instructing her on how to sit, where to move her arms, when to breathe… Diana had always hated physical examinations, but Dr. Lennox seemed to be making an extra effort to make her as comfortable as possible, and she appreciated his attempts. Fortunately, with Sarah still glaring at him she was sure the poor man was far more uncomfortable than she was. Occasionally, he would ask another question, and these were far easier to answer: how often did she get headaches? Had she ever needed spectacles? Did she have trouble getting to sleep at night?

Throughout the examination, Dr. Lennox's expression remained neutral. At the answer to one specific question, however, his eyebrows shot up and he dropped Diana's wrist, where he had been monitoring her pulse.

"Three months?" he demanded. "Are you certain?"

Diana looked at Sarah in confusion. "It _has_ been that long, has it not?"

"Most definitely over two months, madam. Dr. Burns did not seem surprised by this when he came," said Sarah, but her tone had lost all its venom. She was looking at Dr. Lennox strangely. "Why would that be, sir?"

"Because doctors only ask that question when they want to know if you are in the family way," said Diana dismissively. "Dr. Burns knows that cannot be the case for me."

Dr. Lennox was still frowning. "Forgive me, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, but I realise I never questioned this. _How_ is Dr. Burns so sure you are unable to have children?"

Uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken, Diana looked to Sarah for help; however, her maid was staring at her as well, clearly waiting for an answer. Diana fidgeted uneasily. "Well, I don't know. When I was married before, I was young and healthy; a few years went by and I never had children. Everyone told my mother there was something wrong, and we went through a period of Dr. Burns watching what I ate, what I did, where I went…" she trailed off, wincing at the recollections of the first few years of her marriage. "It was a natural conclusion."

"I see," Dr. Lennox's tone was odd; up until that moment, he had sounded carefully neutral, even pleasant. Now, he sounded guarded. "Well, I do not know what medical grounds Dr. Burns had to pass that judgement, but I think I can ascertain what the problem is for now, particularly if you have missed a cycle. The day you had the fainting spell, you said you were dizzy, felt nauseous, your appetite was unreliable and you were concerned about shortness of breath?" Diana nodded. "Have you a history of anaemia, Mrs. Fitzwilliam?"

Diana frowned. "Not that I know of. That has something to do with blood, does it not?"

Dr. Lennox nodded. "It is rarely developed at your age unless accompanied by something such as pregnancy or an injury, but it is not entirely unheard of," he scribbled something into his notebook and tore off a page, handing it to Sarah. "There are some drafts you should take to build up your strength, and I've included some dietary recommendations as well. It is nothing to worry about, but it _is_ something to monitor carefully. I would advise you to avoid strenuous exercise for the next few weeks; anything that may cause you to feel tired or stressed."

"Well? Is that all?" Diana frowned. "I am anaemic?"

Dr. Lennox smiled, a little sadly. "Sometimes we may feel worse when we do not know what is wrong. Putting a name to an illness is a way to make it seem less daunting, and a way to treat it. Anaemia is not an ideal situation for anyone to be in, but it is quite treatable."

"I see," Diana tried to answer his reassuring smile, but it was difficult. As he stood up to leave and accepted her thanks with a bashful look, Diana tried to appear more grateful. She knew, as she followed him down the stairs, that she should be more gratuitous. Dr. Lennox did not have the same bedside manner as Dr. Burns; he was much more patient and respectful, less nervous and seemed to genuinely listen when she spoke. Nevertheless, the feeling in the back of her mind – that there was something _more_ wrong than what these men were telling her – did not ease.

"I will come again in a week's time," Dr. Lennox promised as he stepped out the door. As he bowed to Lady Alexandra, his eyes sought out Diana once more to offer her a comforting smile. Diana did not have the presence of mind to return it; it was not until their carriage was gone and she was once again seated in the parlour that she realised Dr. Lennox had not seemed too surprised by her dazed state.

Hours later, when they had just finished dinner and Lady Alexandra looked relaxed for the first time in days, Lord Fitzwilliam asked Diana how she was feeling now that Dr. Lennox had been to visit.

"Much better," said Diana, forcing her tone to be bright and cheery. The earl smiled warmly, Lady Alexandra joked about Cecelia's Hart's exuberance – which she insisted on calling "charming" – and there was some fuss in the dining-room as Cook sent up a special dessert to celebrate that Mrs. Fitzwilliam was finally "on the mend". Ever-aware of the level of gratitude she knew she should feel – and _did_ feel, despite everything – Diana smiled and laughed and spooned the cream cake onto her plate. However, throughout the evening and until her head rested on her pillow later that night, Dr. Lennox's words echoed in her mind: _putting a name to an illness is a way to make it seem less daunting, and a way to treat it._

But what if it was the wrong name?

* * *

 **Hello all! Just a quick note that this story is forever my escape from real life so I don't want to bum any of us out, but the world is a scary place right now and I am sending you all good vibes for the next few weeks/months. Stay safe xxxx**


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